Echo
by momothelemur
Summary: Forbidden love. Murder. Betrayal. Some things should remain in the past. But when a necklace stirs up a dark history, Draco and Hermione reluctantly band together to find out exactly who - or what - is trying to recreate the ultimate crime of passion.
1. Ghosts Of The Past

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"Someone's popular," Ron Weasley muttered, eyeing the large parcel an owl had just dropped on the table in front of the girl sitting opposite him.

"Makes a nice change, doesn't it?" Hermione Granger replied breezily, reaching for the hastily wrapped brown package and trying not to disturb any of the plates or cutlery around her. As she carefully tore at the paper, a small letter fell out. "It's from my parents," she announced in surprise, her eyebrows rising.

"I didn't know they knew how to use an owl," Harry Potter commented from his place next to Ron as he swallowed a mouthful of porridge.

"Since Hogwarts doesn't exactly have a registered telephone number, I thought it best to tell them about the only method they can actually reach me by," Hermione shrugged as she began to read. "It was either that or tie an incredibly long piece of string onto either end of two cups."

"What are you two on about?" Ron asked exasperatedly, already lost.

"Muggle stuff," Harry replied. To Hermione, he continued, "So did you buy them an owl?"

"No," Hermione answered absently, frowning deeply as she read the letter. "I just keep sending the Hogwarts ones to them."

"Ah, the cheap and easy method," Ron grinned. "I know it well."

"No point in her having two pets," Harry laughed at Ron. "You can't stand Crookshanks as it is."

"And unless he suddenly sprouts wings then there's not much chance of me getting my letters delivered other than by owl," Hermione added distantly. She sighed heavily and placed the letter on top of the package.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked in concern, noting his best friend's expression.

"My great aunt just died," Hermione replied quietly. She was frowning as though something had confused or annoyed her.

Ron and Harry exchanged the universal _oh no, do you think she's going to cry?_ look that all boys get when in the presence of an emotional girl before immediately comforting and consoling Hermione.

"I'm really sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"We're here to talk if you need us."

"Do you want a hug?"

Harry and Hermione both shot Ron odd looks for his out-of-character suggestion.

"What?" Ron mumbled self-consciously. "Girls like hugs, right?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "I'm alright thanks. I wasn't close with Great Aunt Tabitha anyway. Just the occasional birthday card three weeks late with no money in it."

"You've got to love families," Harry noted ironically as he helped himself to another spoonful of porridge.

"So what's in the parcel?" Ron asked, nodding his head towards the conspicuous brown bundle.

"Family heirloom apparently," Hermione shrugged, unravelling the rest of the paper. "Some sort of…" her haughty tone drifted off as she held up a beautiful piece of jewellery. "Necklace. Wow."

"Pretty," Ron said, his attention diverted as soon as he realised that there was nothing in the package that would remotely amuse him.

Hermione examined the necklace gently. Slim silver lines fragmented a round crimson gem (_that could possibly be real ruby_, she noted with intrigue) so that the pendant was split into eight equal pieces. At the heart of the it was another small jewel, this one an emerald. There was a minute hole at the top of the necklace, where black cord had been looped through.

"Apparently, this necklace should be passed on to the female in the next generation, but Great Aunt Tabitha kept it locked in her attic for years," Hermione informed Harry and Ron with excitement. "It's a fair few generations old and mum didn't really see the need for it so she sent it here as a 'welcome to sixth year' gift."

"But term started a month and a half ago," Ron pointed out.

"It's the thought that counts, _Ronald_," Hermione answered scathingly as she placed the necklace around her neck.

"Wait," Harry said with sudden unease. "Shouldn't you, I don't know, check if it's safe first?"

"What's it going to do, strangle her?" Ron chortled. Then he bit his lip as it dawned on his that this was actually plausible. "Oh."

"Exactly," Harry nodded. "Hermione?"

Hermione, now glaring at the necklace in distrust, discreetly pulled out her wand and murmured a quick spell to ensure that the necklace held no dark magic. When nothing suspicious happened, Hermione smiled happily and proceeded to put the necklace on.

"Does it look okay?" she asked Harry and Ron after deciding that checking her reflection in a spoon really wasn't the best thing to do.

"Look, no offence, but can't you ask Ginny these types of things?" Ron sighed. "I haven't got a clue."

"Right," Hermione snapped. "I forget your amazing incapability to care about anything that isn't a direct advantage to you."

With that, she gathered up the package and her bag and flounced heatedly out of the great hall.

"What was that about?" Ron frowned after her.

"She called you selfish," Harry edited with some confusion. "But you weren't any more so than usual." As Ron scowled at him, Harry laughed. "Sorry mate, it's true."

"Right," Ron grumbled. "But she really took it personally. Do you reckon there was something in that letter that she wasn't telling us about?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. If there was, though, we should wait for her to tell us in her own time."

* * *

"Wonder what had Granger so wound up?" Pansy Parkinson speculated aloud as the middle of the Slytherin table watched one of Harry Potter's stupid little followers storm away.

"Probably realized that that new necklace of hers didn't focus attention away from her hair," Draco Malfoy answered bitingly.

Everyone around him laughed sycophantically and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He reminded himself to be grateful that at least this time they were laughing at something which was actually funny. Usually, he could comment on the fruit before him and have the whole group howling. Idiots.

"Hey, Drac," some nameless male, a new addition to the group, piped up after a moment. "You figure out anything about that new ghost yet?"

Draco gritted his teeth in annoyance. _Drac_? How dare this lowly fifth year speak to him so informally? He glared at the boy for a few seconds, before remembering his name. Bernie…Something-Or-Other. Draco wished he could remember Bernie's surname so he could address him with as much disdain as he possibly could. He was Pansy's latest in a long line of failed boyfriends. Not that Draco minded. In fact, he felt a grudging gratitude to Bernie. After all, it kept Pansy from sniffing around him.

"No," Draco answered, shooting a look at Pansy who rightfully blushed. She wasn't supposed to have told anyone about that.

"Weird, isn't it?" Bernie continued conversationally, tucking his messy raven hair behind his ear and taking another bite of an apple. He continued talking with his mouth full. "That a random ghost would just show up here, I mean. Surprised Dumbledore allowed it. Then again, he's so out of touch I'm surprised that he even notices what he has for breakfast any more."

Bernie glanced up sneeringly at the table at the front of the great hall only to find Dumbledore looking at him with an amused expression. Bernie instantly flushed and snapped his eyes back down to the table.

Draco smirked. "Apparently he's a lot more aware than you are." After throwing his own scornful look at the head table, he scoffed lightly. "Not that Dumbledore will be here much longer anyway. It's only a matter of time until the Dark Lord takes over and when he does…"

He let his sentence hang in the air suggestively. If Potter looked up now then he'd see the occupants of the middle of the Slytherin table all sneering at him. Not that it'd enter his thick, scarred head to take them seriously. He acted like he owned the school, waltzing around with his pathetic band of googly-eyed do-gooders.

"A word, Draco," a hollow voice requested from just behind Draco's chair, almost making him jump out of his skin.

Fully expecting it to be a teacher, he began to turn around, disparaging remark in place. But the words died on his lips when he saw who it was that had spoken.

The ghost that had been haunting him was now staring at him with baleful eyes and had stretched out a translucent hand. Draco glanced back to the table and saw his group all staring at the ghost with open mouths. Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, he scoffed and turned back around.

"I won't take orders from a ghost," he muttered, picking up a bread roll.

"It was a request," the ghost corrected. "One I advise you to accept."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine." He stood up, throwing a careless glance back at his friends. "I'll see you later."

He made sure that his purposeful stride was ahead of the ghost's drifting form by at least a foot so as to show who was in charge. Draco refused to admit to himself that he was curious and even a little scared by the ghost's presence. He had never been personally haunted before and wondered what he had done to deserve it.

_Better not go into that, _he silently amended.

"Right," he said rudely once he had led the ghost into the relatively quiet entrance hall. He noted that Granger was sitting on the third step of the grand staircase that led to the upper floors of Hogwarts, poring over something. Probably homework that wouldn't even be set until tomorrow. He turned his attention back to the ghost. "What do you want?"

But the ghost's attention was fixed on Hermione.

"What's her name?" he asked Draco without looking away from the bushy-haired girl.

"Granger," Draco answered shortly. "Now what-"

"Is that her first name or did she just have unusual parents?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco answered through his teeth. "Best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Mudblood, smart and annoyingly eager." He rattled off the list of everything he could recall about the girl he had spent the past six years despising by association.

"Mudblood?" the ghost repeated in surprise, his thick eyebrows rising. "I never would've assumed-"

"Yes, it came as a shock to all of us," Draco cut in scathingly. "Now I really don't appreciate you following me around being cryptic, so tell me what you want and then we can go on with our lives." He paused. "I can go on with _my _life, you can go on with your afterlife."

"Willingness to get to the point," the ghost mused. "You truly are a Malfoy." He chuckled humourlessly - another Malfoy trait - and continued. "I am Trayton Malfoy and I believe you are my great - to however many degrees - grandson."

Draco stood, stunned, for a few seconds. He looked at the ghost in a new light, taking in the slight curve of his lips as he smirked, his old-fashioned clothes, the way he managed to look self-assured even when floating. He couldn't have been older than twenty five and yet his eyes showed eternal, cunning wisdom.

Of course, Draco approved of him instantly now that he knew who he was.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco introduced, although of course Trayton already knew who he was. "Latest in the line of Malfoys. Still Pureblood, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear."

"Thrilled," Trayton answered dryly.

"It's quite an achievement," Draco said with a frown. "There aren't that many families today whose blood isn't tainted."

"I'm sure your medal is coming any day now," Trayton told the platinum haired boy sarcastically. His eyes strayed over to where Hermione sat, chewing on her lip agitatedly. "Have you ever heard her talk about her ancestors?"

"I haven't heard her talk about anything that didn't directly involve homework," Draco answered. It wasn't the strictest truth of course, but he was slightly sore at the way Trayton had dismissed his lineage so easily. "What do you care, anyway? They're probably all Muggles."

"They're not," Trayton answered, his voice so soft that Draco barely caught it over the noise coming from the great hall. He turned back to Draco, suddenly all business. "You see the necklace she's wearing?" At a nod from Draco, he continued. "I want it."

"It won't go with your outfit," Draco warned with a smirk.

"Get me the necklace," Trayton told his great (etcetera) grandson, ignoring the boy's comment. "I can make it worth your while."

Draco glanced at his ancestor disparagingly. "No disrespect meant, but you're a ghost. Unless you want to tell me where there's a map to some long-lost treasure, there's really nothing that you can offer me."

"Oh?" Trayton asked. "I'll wager that there's many things that you don't know about Hogwarts."

"I know enough," Draco dismissed. "The castle isn't nearly as mysterious as people make it out to be."

"Then you'll know all about the Sons of Slytherin."

That had Draco's attention.

Trayton's lips curved upwards at the boy's expression. "No? Well then, that _is _surprising. I thought our secret society would be the stuff of legends by now."

"If people were talking about it, then the 'secret' part would've been compromised," Draco scowled.

"Shame…" Trayton sighed. "We knew the ins and outs of the school, the potions books and the restricted section of the library. We could've been Gods with the power we had amassed. Perhaps someone would be willing to carry on my legacy."

Draco couldn't have missed the very pointed look that was being thrown his way. His eyes wandered over to Granger, who had just been joined by Potter and Weasley. They were talking quietly to her and patting her on the arm in what was supposed to be comforting. He felt his blood boil at his hatred of all of them. With the power that Trayton promised, he could get them back for all the times they had gotten the last word or curse in and made him look a fool.

It didn't even take five seconds to consider it. Draco turned to Trayton.

"You want the necklace? It's yours."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello everyone!**

**I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of my new fanfic. It's my first time writing a full-length Harry Potter fic, so if there's any mistakes then let me know. You can PM me or leave me a nice, happy, shiny review :) The review button has been moved and it's now green (presumably so that it stands out but hey, I'm no expert on these things) and urging you to click on it.**

**Have a great week everyone!**

**- Momo**


	2. Whispers In A Dream

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco soon regretted telling Trayton so cockily that he could get him the necklace. Considering Granger had only had the necklace a short while, she was already stupidly attached to it. Draco had watched her like a hawk (which was difficult to do conspicuously and he sensed that a few odd looks were being thrown his way) but just the next day found himself wishing that the damn thing would somehow miraculously just fall off her neck.

"Willing the necklace to fall into your hands is not enough," Trayton sighed as Draco's narrowed gaze followed Hermione's retreating figure departing from breakfast. "You may have to actually interact with her. Perish the thought."

"I know you're being sarcastic about the last bit, but you're actually right," Draco informed his ancestor testily, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening. Apparently absorbed in their breakfasts, everyone was distracted. "I have pride and I have reputation, neither of which I obtained by begging Mudbloods for stupid pieces of costume jewellery."

"It isn't costume jewellery," Trayton snarled, startling Draco for a moment with his ferocity. The ghost's eyes seemed to be on fire, although of course this was impossible. After a moment however, they returned to their normal steely grey. "Perhaps you could…charm the girl?"

Draco shot him a look that would freeze flames. "Did you not hear when I mentioned my pride and reputation?"

Trayton laughed darkly. "Sometimes there are more important things."

"This isn't one of those times," Draco informed him, his voice still icy. "I've got potions to get to."

"Is Hermione in that class?" Trayton asked.

"_Granger_," Draco seethed in correction, "is, yes. Goodbye."

Without a backwards glance, he set off to the potions lab. There was a crash behind him and he rolled his eyes, knowing what the source was. Sure enough, Crabbe and Goyle shortly appeared beside him.

"What did you break this time?" Draco asked them, resignation in his sharp tone.

It was times like these that he wished for companions with at least one iota of intelligence. He may hate them, but at least the Golden Trio would come up with a witty response. At least, Potter and Granger would. Weasley would most likely stand there scratching his head. An answer such as 'only a few Gryffindor bones' would be well received right about now, but of course this didn't occur to Crabbe or Goyle who exchanged shifty glances.

"Never mind," Draco cut them off impatiently. "It probably wasn't anything important."

"Wasn't," Goyle agreed, being his usual monosyllabic self.

Draco stalked down towards the dungeon, his mood blackening with every step that he took. Merlin forbid that he could be surrounded by people whom he could talk to about Trayton's task, could even offer their help. He was about to turn a corner when something made him stop.

"…nothing, I just had a dream last night that scared me a little."

Draco's ears perked up as Granger's quiet voice drifted down the dungeon corridor. She sounded troubled and uncertain. Draco held up a hand to stop Crabbe or Goyle going any further. He wanted to hear this conversation.

"You want to talk about it?" Potter asked.

Draco groaned silently. He should've known that Granger wouldn't be alone. His improvised plan had been to demand the necklace from her and leave. Simple as that.

"Or ask Trelawney to-"

Draco noted with satisfaction that Weasley's voice was cut off with a thud and an 'ouch!'.

"Think about the consequences of your words before you say them, Ron," Granger's said, managing to sound prim and smug at the same time.

Draco decided this was a good a time as any to step in. He turned the corner, Crabbe and Goyle loitering somewhere behind him.

"Yeah, Weasley," he said with a smirk. "Wouldn't want to give off the impression that you're a bit dim now, would you?"

"Leave it," Granger advised the angry redhead quietly as Weasley made a threatening move towards Draco.

"Let him try," Draco suggested deliberately, his cold eyes boring into Weasley's, before sliding quickly over to Granger's in disgust. "What the hell is that thing around your neck?"

"It's a necklace," Granger answered, placing a protective hand over the pendant as if she knew that he wanted to take it.

"Yes, I can see that," Draco drawled. "Where did you find it? A ditch?"

A flush covered Granger's face, much to Draco's satisfaction. If he could convince her that the necklace looked ridiculous on her, maybe she'd throw it away. At which point he'd dutifully scoop it up, because it would just be _that _easy.

Yeah, right.

"It's a family thing," Potter snarled, ever the protective one. "You know about family, don't you Draco?"

Draco hated the way that Potter said his name. It was condescension in its ugliest form.

"You know how ironic it is that you of all people just asked me that, don't you?" Draco retorted coldly.

Potter snapped and lunged for Draco, just as Professor Snape came striding down the corridor. There was a shout. One moment Draco was clenching his fists ready for a fight, the next he was suspended in the air, his feet kicking at emptiness. His eyes widening, he glanced furiously at Snape, only to see him looking vaguely bewildered. Then the Professor noticed Granger standing with her wand directly pointing at Draco and scowled.

"Miss Granger, that's quite enough," he snapped, flourishing his own wand and muttering the words to send Draco gently back down to the ground.

As Snape reprimanded Granger, Draco quickly righted himself and thanked his lucky stars that he was on Snape's good side, otherwise he knew that the Potions teacher would not have set him down so gracefully.

"Twenty five points from Gryffindor," Snape finished coolly, before finishing his walk to the Potions lab, leaving Potter and Weasley fuming and Granger looking rightfully abashed.

"Nice work," Draco commented dryly to Granger as he passed to go to Potions. "Keep at it and you're sure to win the house cup at the end of the year."

"Keep talking and you won't even live that long," Weasley threatened.

It was an empty threat and they all knew it. That's how Draco knew it was safe to turn his back on the group and swagger into the potions lab. After a moment he heard the Golden Trio follow him in, Potter and Weasley throwing their bags down angrily on a desk far away from his own, whilst Granger appeared subdued.

* * *

_There's no reason to call on that crackpot Trelawney, _Hermione told herself repeatedly, absently drumming her fingers lightly on the wooden table. _She'd probably interpret my dream as that I need to buy a cake made by penguins in Helsinki. Idiotic phoney._

She was so distracted that she didn't collect all the ingredients needed for the day's potion, much less pile them into the cauldron into the right order. Harry had to frantically nudge her shoulder before she realized that acrid green sludge was bubbling over onto the desk, sizzling and hissing unpleasantly.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized absently. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Other than your mysterious dream?" Harry prompted, helping her restrain the rebellious potion.

"It shouldn't be bothering me this much," Hermione scowled. "When have you ever known me to be this distracted?"

Harry frowned, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. As he reached to push them back up, he said, "Maybe we can help. What was your dream about?"

"Maybe it was about Malfoy," Ron said loudly as Malfoy sauntered past on his way to the ingredients cupboard. "That's enough to distress anyone."

"Do you want this on your head?" Hermione seethed at Ron, indicating the sludgy concoction on her desk. She had not realized that Malfoy had stopped next to her desk.

"Do it, it might make him more attractive," Malfoy sneered, making Hermione jump. He smirked. "Startle you, did I Granger?"

"No," Hermione frowned, although of course this was a lie. Her hammering heart proved that. "Just go back to your own desk. Do us all a favour."

"Ouch," Malfoy said mockingly. "Careful Granger, I might start thinking that you didn't care."

"Go lock yourself in a dungeon, Malfoy, I've got better things to think of than you," Hermione retorted venomously, before turning back to her cauldron.

"Nice," Harry murmured next to her appreciatively. "You must really be annoyed."

"Not at Malfoy," Hermione shrugged distantly. "Well, not _just_ at Malfoy. I was up through the night."

"Your dream," Harry guessed. "Which you won't tell me about."

"Or me," Ron chimed in.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. The boys leaned in and she began her tale. "It was just a series of images really. There was a girl, maybe a year or so older than we are. She had this beautiful dress on and…and my necklace. She was running alone through the corridors of Hogwarts and there must have been a storm or something because there were bright flashes every so often. I think it was at night, seeing as there was no one else around. Until someone else showed up."

Hermione frowned and touched her pendant gently, as if trying to remember something. Harry and Ron exchanged glances but otherwise did nothing. Unbeknownst to any of them, Malfoy lurked beside the table, lingering to see if he could hear anything interesting about the necklace he had promised to steal.

"A young man, about the same age as the woman. He looked familiar somehow, but I couldn't place him. Or maybe it just felt like he was in the dream, I don't know."

"Did they talk or anything?" Ron asked, his eyebrows knitted together.

"This is what scares me," Hermione confided. "A lot of words were thrown around. Some I understood, some I didn't. But something happened that night. Something bad."

"How do you know it wasn't just a dream?" Harry asked, trying to be comforting.

"That's what I thought, at first. But it kept niggling at me, so I got up especially early this morning and went to the records room, just in case I found anything. I looked for awhile before I saw her portrait. The girl I saw in my dream, Zella Lennox, was Head Girl here a long time ago."

There was a stunned silence from Ron and Harry.

"That was my reaction as well," Hermione told them with a slightly shaky laugh. "I checked the dates on her portrait in case I could find anything on the boy I saw and-"

"You found him as well?" Ron interrupted, his eyes wide. He was practically on the edge of hid seat.

"Yes and no," Hermione answered perplexedly. "His surname was obscured, but he was Head Boy opposite Zella. They obviously knew each other."

"What was the boy's name?" Harry asked. "Maybe we could do some research on him."

"Trayton," Hermione replied.

As the Golden Trio discussed their thoughts and speculations, Draco stood rooted to the spot. Why was Granger having dreams about his ancestor, who had conveniently just shown up? A horrible feeling spreading in the pit of his stomach, he muttered something about feeling ill to Crabbe before leaving the room quickly. Trayton had some explaining to do.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hope you enjoyed the second chapter. I had a little difficulty with it at first. Thank you for your reviews, they're very much appreciated :D**

**- Momo**


	3. Lost Soul

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

_If I were a ghost, where would I be? _Draco thought to himself as he strode down the main corridor of the second floor. _Not haunting my descendants, that's for sure. Maybe if I just called him…?_

"Trayton?" he called, once he was sure no one was around. Everyone had either gone to lessons or their common rooms for a free period.

"I'm not a dog that can be summoned, Draco," Trayton's voice came testily from behind Draco.

"And yet, here you are," Draco pointed out with a smirk.

"I happened to be going this way anyway, it's the way to the place where past records are stored," Trayton glowered.

"Yes, the record room," Draco mused. "Funny you should mention that."

"Oh?" Trayton asked, stopping in his ghostly tracks and half-turning curiously. "How so?"

Draco began to walk, irritation welling up inside him. He motioned for Trayton to follow, all the while cursing that the ghost hadn't told him the whole story, and feeling incredibly stupid for not asking. He would do a lot to get one over on the Golden Trio, but what exactly was he getting himself into?

"You see, Hermione Granger, whom you seem to have the oddest fixation on, had a dream last night," Draco hissed, refusing to look at the ghost drifting silently beside him. "It featured a young woman, the necklace you want me to steal and your good self. Now is this all a coincidence or is there something you should tell me?"

Trayton was silent for a long while. He didn't speak until they neared the records room.

"Her name was Zella, the girl in the dream" he said softly, his eyes faraway. "She was Head Girl as I was Head Boy. She was beautiful and witty and smart. I loved her." His eyes, if such a thing were possible, hardened. "But not everyone did. Some were angry that a Son of Slytherin, a member of the most exclusive elite society, would consort with a Gryffindor. Slytherins thought that she would weaken me, Gryffindors feared that I would corrupt her." He laughed bitterly. "We couldn't win. Soon it seemed that everyone took sides, almost all against us and our relationship."

He disappeared through the records room door and Draco, eager to hear more, pushed open the door quickly and entered the room.

"I gave her a necklace as a gift. She loved it, the colours especially. She wanted people to know that red and green could coexist on a pendant equally as well as they could in real life." His voice trailed off sadly.

"Granger said that she thought something bad happened to Zella?" Draco prompted, his usual disregard for people's feelings shining through.

"Some saw the necklace as the final straw," Trayton whispered. "It was decided that action must be taken, otherwise the Houses and their integrity would fall into disarray. Late one night, Zella received the message that I wanted to see her on the fourth floor corridor. We would often meet up using trustworthy messengers but we had been betrayed. By the time I reached her, it was too late."

Trayton fell quiet again for some time, his eyes grazing over the photographs and trophies that adorned the walls.

"The Sons of Slytherin had been working on a spell to trap a person inside an object," he continued suddenly, causing Draco to snap his head up and pay attention. "Maybe the Sons got it wrong, or maybe someone overheard incorrectly, but either way the spell didn't work. Not entirely. Zella's body remained, as beautiful in death as it had been in life, but her soul…her essence…it was forever lost inside the necklace she had worn with such pride. I left Hogwarts soon after."

As Trayton came back to the present, Draco's mind was lost in the past.

_No wonder Trayton's a bit testy, _was his initial thought, _he's lost everything._

"The necklace was sent to her family, who weren't told of what it held. I spent the rest of my life trying to retrieve it but it wasn't meant to be. I died not many years later. Disease was the official verdict of death but I knew that a heart can never fully recover from a loss of that magnitude." He sighed and, for the first time since entering the room, glanced at Draco. "That isn't to say that I didn't try. When the necklace became a lost cause, I began having…_relationships_ with women-"

"That would never last more than a night?" Draco cut in, not meaning to sound judgemental but managing to get there anyway.

"Sometimes not even that," Trayton admitted with a rueful smile. "I just wanted to lose myself, wanted so desperately to get away from the everyday hell of my existence. I didn't know I had fathered a son until a few years after my death. As ensnared in self-pity as I was, I blamed myself for not being a gentlemen and at least obtaining the name of the boy's mother. But my parents somehow found out about my son and immediately took him under their wing, giving him the proud surname of Malfoy." He exchanged a momentary proud smile with Draco before continuing. "The necklace was passed down through Zella's bloodline, treated as nothing more than a family heirloom. The last time I checked, the family were all still magical, although I suppose something must have changed as Miss. Granger's parents are, according to you, muggles."

"They are," Draco was quick to confirm with contempt.

"I felt the necklace calling to me when it was set upon the right path, the path that led to me," Trayton explained, turning once again back to the wall. "For so many years I had been lost to nothingness. But now I have a purpose again, a reason to hope. If I can set Zella's soul free from her prison, we can be together at last."

"And you can move on?" Draco asked.

"Who cares, as long as I'm with her?" Trayton asked with a wistful smile.

A sudden and annoying stab of loneliness wracked through Draco's stomach at that moment. He soon sneered it away however; love was supposed to be this all-powerful thing and yet in this world all it seemed to do was get people killed.

"You see now why I have such an interest in the necklace?" Trayton asked sadly.

"I do," Draco answered with a nod, but couldn't help his question bursting from his lips. "What will I get once I give you the necklace?" He paused. "Not meaning to sound insensitive or anything."

"You're a Malfoy, it's to be expected," Trayton said with a shrug, as if this excused everything. "I will impart my knowledge when I get the necklace, and only then."

"Better get to work then," Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Snape will probably keep Granger back for that little stunt she pulled on me…if I can get there before she leaves then we'll be alone and I can, I don't know, threaten her or something."

Without another word, he walked briskly from the room and back down towards the dungeons, correcting and altering his plan as he saw fit. When students began to trickle from classrooms on the first floor, Draco stepped up his pace. Soon there would be floods of people and he'd never get where he needed to be. As he flew down the stairs, a few fourth years muttered angrily but didn't dare shout at him to his face.

Taking the last corner at high speed, Draco finally reached the potions lab. He leant against the wall to catch his breath, certain that Snape hadn't let the class out yet. For once in his life grateful for the potions master's lectures, Draco waited until the rumbling of voices and the scraping of chairs echoed from inside the closed door.

"…Stupid git," came the grumblings of the Gryffindor students as they stalked away for a short break.

Even the Slytherin students seemed irritated that the head of their House would cut into their precious few minutes of break just to shout at them all.

"I'd hate to be Hermione right now," Weasley muttered to Potter as they exited together.

"It isn't fair that Snape's punishing her," Potter agreed with a scowl. "If anything, Malfoy's the one who should…"

Their voices faded away down the corridor and Draco was glad that they had been too embroiled in their complaining to notice him. It would only incite awkward questions and he might miss his chance. The corridor quickly cleared and Draco was left to wait alone once more.

"It won't happen again, Professor," Granger's weary voice came after a couple of minutes.

"Ensure that it doesn't," Snape replied icily, opening the door, glaring for a moment and then shutting it firmly.

Granger sighed heavily and ran a hand through her thick hair discontentedly.

"Hello Granger," Draco greeted, deciding it was time to make his presence known.

For the second time in as many hours, Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. Draco had to admit, he rather enjoyed it.

"Malfoy," Hermione returned with a curt, wary nod.

"Did I scare you?" Draco asked with a smirk, knowing full well that he had.

"You were hiding in a shadowy corridor all alone, of course you did," Hermione retorted with a glare, wondering as she did why she had assured Ron and Harry that it was okay for them to leave her. "Go and bug Snape, I'm not in the mood."

She turned to move but Draco was faster. He moved to the side and blocked her exit from the narrow corridor. She scowled and tried to step around him but he wouldn't budge.

"I'm not here for him," Draco told her evenly. "I'm here for you."

_I suppose sounding like a stalker is a good thing, _Draco thought as Hermione's eyes betrayed anxiety and…fear? _Maybe it'll frighten her into giving me the necklace._

"Malfoy, I don't know what you think you're playing at, but-" Hermione started angrily but Draco cut her off.

"You have something that I need," he told her, praying that she didn't take that comment the wrong way.

"Another punch in the face?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raising slightly. "I agree."

Draco scowled at the third year reference, a moment he would prefer to forget.

"Your necklace," he corrected, more sharply than was probably necessary. _Then again, it was Granger. The sharper, the better with her._ This in mind, he took a step forward knowing, as he did, that she would be forced to step back.

"It looks better on me," Hermione told him coldly, a protective hand flying up to the pendant. "I'm going to ask you nicely - though you certainly don't deserve it - to move out of the way before I force you to."

Draco saw Hermione reaching for her wand and opted for a pre-emptive strike.

"_Expelliarmus_!" he shouted. Hermione's wand clattered to the floor a distance away, useless. "The necklace," Draco continued coldly.

"Why?" Hermione demanded, determined not to show how much this was unnerving her.

"Because the ghost of my ancestor wants it so that he can bring back the soul of his dead lover and they can finally be together," Draco told her through gritted teeth, knowing that she wouldn't believe anything he said anyway.

"That's nice, pass on my congratulations," Hermione spat sarcastically, glancing at her wand and wondering if she could summon it before the psychopath in front of her knew what was going on.

_This is ridiculous, _Draco thought contemptuously, _stupid, bloody stubborn girl!_

"Zella Lennox," he said suddenly.

There was a pause.

"What?" Hermione whispered, staring at him.

"Zella Lennox was in your dream last night," Draco told her. "Want to know how I know? Well," he ploughed on without waiting for an answer, "it's the strangest thing. I'm visited by the Ghost of Hogwarts Past, telling me that I need to take your necklace away from you because the poor soul of his girlfriend is trapped inside."

There was another longer, more pronounced pause.

"Have you been hitting the Butterbeer a little too hard, Malfoy?" Hermione asked scathingly when she found her voice.

"You don't believe me," Draco said with a nod.

"Is it any wonder?"

Momentarily defeated, Draco stepped aside to let her past. She eyed his suspiciously before running over to her wand and snatching it up. She pointed it at him warily as she backed away.

"You had the dream about her for a reason," Draco said coolly. "I can safely assume that it won't be the last one. You know where I am when you're ready to admit I'm right and beg for my help."

"That will never happen," Hermione snarled. "You may be a Pureblood, but you're still beneath me."

With one last glare, she left the corridor before Draco, visibly shaking with anger, could retaliate.

_It doesn't matter, _he told himself whilst taking deep breaths. _It seems like Zella's already begun to annoy the Mudblood. If she's half as persistent as Trayton, Granger will come crying for my help in no time._**A/N:**

* * *

**Hello, hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for the reviews, they're very much appreciated :D**

**- Momo**


	4. Haunted

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Much to Hermione's annoyance, Malfoy turned out to be right. The next three nights, her dreams were haunted by Zella, either in her prime as the Head Girl, collapsing to the floor as she died or her ghostly figure drifting desolately along the walls of Hogwarts and towards the Gryffindor tower. The most recent dream, the latter option, had seen Zella enter the common room and float upwards towards where Hermione slept. Like a whisper, she had glided to Hermione's bed and reached out to touch her sleeping face.

At which point Hermione promptly jerked awake, breathing heavily and scanning the room frantically. She didn't know if Zella meant her any harm, but it was better to be cautious.

As her breathing slowed, she slowly lay back down and stared at the canopy of her bed. Her encounter with Malfoy had scared her more than she was willing to admit, even more so now that Zella, as he had predicted, was making regular starring roles in her once peaceful dreams. It was worrying, yes, but what was she supposed to do? Go up to Malfoy and ask for his help? Unlikely. Really, really unlikely. She could just imagine his smug face, smirk permanently etched onto his mouth.

It was this unrelenting mental image that prompted Hermione to go to the library the next day at lunch time. She placed her bag down on a table and ran her fingers over the spines of books, before realizing that she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for. Defeat welled before the idea to check the records room struck her. With renewed hope, she snatched her bag up and tore from the library, earning the glare of death from Madam Pince.

"Hermione?" a voice called, confused.

She skidded to a halt and turned around breathlessly. Harry and Ron stood staring at her.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked slowly. "You look…"

"Ill? Tired? Dishevelled?" Ron offered. Hermione shot him a scowl. "I'll be quiet."

"Thanks," Hermione answered icily before addressing Harry. "I know, I've not been sleeping very well."

"Zella again?" Harry guessed, concern marking his features.

"Right in one," Hermione sighed. "She isn't leaving me alone and it's taking its toll. The dreams wake me up just past midnight and I don't get back to sleep." She laughed slightly. "On the plus side, I'm about three months ahead with my homework."

"When are you not?" Ron asked with a grin.

Hermione shrugged, allowing that. "Are you coming with me to the records room? I'll only be a few minutes. Then we can all go down to lunch together."

"Sure," Harry nodded.

Ron's stomach answered for him.

"Was that an objection, Ron?" Harry laughed.

"No," Ron muttered, his cheeks colouring. "Come on."

Hermione's giggles subsided after ten minutes of searching the records for some new scrap of information. She scowled and sighed angrily as the seconds ticked by.

"There's nothing here, let's just go," she said, her tone betraying her disappointment and anger.

They filed out of the room and headed down to lunch. The corridors were mercifully emptier than usual; they had missed the initial lunchtime rush.

"Are you sure you don't know anything else about Zella?" Harry asked.

_I only know what Malfoy told me, _she thought, feeling guilty for not telling her best friends about the Slytherin's warning.

"I'm sure," she answered, because what else could she say? Harry and Ron would only seek vengeance on Malfoy if they knew. Besides, a small part of Hermione was glad that Malfoy appeared to know what was going on. It meant that, should things get any worse, she wasn't alone in the problem. Another, much larger, part of her wanted to hex him into oblivion for not just sharing what he knew.

"We'll look again soon," Harry said with a shrug, and before Hermione knew it the conversation had turned to Quidditch as they entered the Great Hall.

She sighed, knowing that this would be the topic for the next few minutes. The boys took their seats and began piling food onto their plates. Hermione chose a bread roll and began surgically slicing it into even bits with her knife, glad of the distraction. When she had finished with this, she chose an apple to suffer the same fate.

"You're not eating much, 'Mione," Ron said with his mouth full.

"You're not eating anything at all," Harry corrected.

"I'm just not that hungry," Hermione shrugged. "And even if I were, the sight of Ron shovelling food into his mouth is enough to put anyone off their food."

"Growing boys need their food," Ron answered, unabashed.

"At this rate you'll be as big as Hagrid," Harry warned.

Hermione laughed, but it quickly died in her throat as she glanced across the room and locked eyes with Malfoy, sitting with his henchpeople at the Slytherin table. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, his mouth curving upwards. She instinctively raised a hand to her necklace to cover it protectively and quickly looked away. She didn't touch her food for the rest of the meal.

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous," Ron growled, his eyes raking critically over Hermione as she greeted them at the breakfast table two days later. "That bitch kept you up _again_?"

"Yep," Hermione answered wearily, pouring herself some porridge. The dark shadows under her eyes were now more pronounced than ever and her hands quivered ever so slightly as she set the jug back down.

"Nick!" Harry called suddenly, making Hermione and Ron jump.

They looked up accusingly at him, only to see him gesturing to Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost who's head had a stubborn refusal to part with his body, even after death.

"Morning Harry, Ron, Hermione!" Nick beamed as he came to a halt behind where they were sitting. He leant forward slightly to look at Hermione and frowned in concern. "My, you're not looking too well."

"I know," Hermione answered edgily. How many more people would comment on this?

"Hermione's not getting a lot of sleep right now," Harry answered. "A ghost is haunting her dreams. The ghost of a young woman who died in Hogwarts. Do you know anything about that?"

Nick frowned again, his fingers tapping his chin as he thought.

"Well, a lot of people have died in Hog…I mean, no, I don't think I do!" Nick corrected hastily, alarm passing over his translucent face.

"What?" Ron asked sharply.

Nick glanced from side to side and sighed. He gestured for the three teenagers to lean in towards him, which they did.

"This is a school of magic," Nick whispered conspiratorially. "Of course there have been accidents. The majority are covered up so as not to alarm students and are quickly forgotten about. Some, however, come to light."

There was a pause as they all thought of Moaning Myrtle, the wailing girl who had been killed in a girl's bathroom a few floors up from where they currently sat. No one could've imagined the way in which she had died until it was revealed that the basilisk that Tom Riddle controlled had looked her straight in the eye. With unease, Hermione wondered how many people had died of unnatural causes at Hogwarts. She would never assume illness killed the ghosts that resided here ever again.

"This girl's name was Zella Lennox," Ron said, breaking the collective reverie. "Lived and died in the 1800s some time."

"She was the Head Girl," Harry added. "Killed in Seventh Year."

There was a pause as Nick tried to remember. Then he nodded solemnly.

"Ah, I think I remember." After another sweep of the room, he continued. "A most curious case. Always had a smile for everyone, did Zella. I was most surprised when…"

"When?" Harry prompted.

"Well, when she was found stabbed to death," Nick answered uncomfortably. "There was quite a bit of outrage about her courting a Slytherin for a few months before she died. He was Head Boy, a perfectly respectable boy from what I remember."

"A respectable Slytherin Head Boy?" Ron muttered. "Seems to me they murdered the wrong person."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "That's awful!"

"I'm just saying," Ron mumbled.

"Go back to the story, Nick," Harry requested, interrupting before a fight could break out. "So Zella was found stabbed?"

"Yes," Nick sighed, perplexed. "No one was ever brought to justice because there were too many suspects. It was an awful time, really. The Houses prided themselves on their differences even more than they do now, and for an inter-House relationship to occur and then go public…it was unheard of."

"What happened to the Head Boy?" Hermione asked, remembering his face in her dreams.

"No one knows," Nick said mysteriously. "He dropped out without telling anyone. Suspicious indeed, but I'm sure many people were glad to see him go. He was the only reminder of the unpleasantness that the school had faced. Without him, people moved on and pretended it never happened."

"Until now," Hermione sighed, going back to her now congealed porridge.

"Until now," Nick confirmed with a nod.

Remembering the horrible fate that Zella had suffered made the animosity that Hermione felt towards her fade. She pushed away her bowl and stood up.

"I'm not very hungry any more," she said in way of explanation. "I've got the afternoon off so I think I'll try and get some sleep."

She nodded as Harry, Ron and Nick bade her a concerned farewell before she shuffled out of the Great Hall. Every muscle in her body cried out as she climbed the steps, her legs threatening to collapse underneath her at any moment. She managed to get to the third floor before having to stop to lean against a wall and closing her eyes.

"My, Granger, you look terrible," came Malfoy's gloating voice from behind her.

_He must've followed me up from breakfast, _Hermione thought wearily. _Brilliant._

"Leave me alone," she told him, her eyes remaining shut.

"No, I'm serious," Malfoy told her, adopting a worried tone. "Either you're into some new weird makeup trend or the dark circles under your eyes are there by accident."

"Malfoy, please," she said quietly, opening her tired eyes with a substantial amount of effort. She jumped slightly when she realized how close he was to her. He stood perhaps two feet away from her, glaring at her critically.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he asked. "You've been dreaming about Zella."

"More like she's been invading my unconscious," Hermione retorted. "And as you can see, she's not letting me get any sleep whatsoever, so if you've come here to say something then just damn well go ahead and say it. Otherwise, sod off."

Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows delicately. "I was merely here to offer my help." He smiled maliciously, and Hermione knew that he wasn't here to do that at all. "But I can see that you're handling things _sensationally _without my help."

He turned and began to walk away, and before Hermione could stop herself she called out his name. He stopped and turned, smirking.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I…nothing," Hermione said, looking away.

"If you need my help, all you have to do is ask," Malfoy purred and, oddly enough, it caused Hermione to think twice for a moment. Then she shook her head. Malfoy smiled coldly. "Right. Just remember this: give me the necklace and all the dreams go away."

"I may be annoyed at Zella for keeping me awake, but no way do I hate her enough to give her straight into your hands," Hermione snapped at him.

"I'm actually trying to do a good thing for once," Malfoy protested.

"For what reasons?" Hermione asked, scowling. "You'll get something out of it, no doubt."

Malfoy nodded, allowing that. "But since you're no closer to figuring out what Zella wants you to do, I suppose you'll have to trust me at some point."

With those final words, he left, leaving Hermione wilting against the wall.

He had to admit, it was fun being mysterious. He knew to savour the novelty while it lasted, though, because Trayton was beginning to get very impatient. Not that he cared much about the ghost, but he worried that perhaps Trayton would refuse to divulge knowledge on the Sons of Slytherin if kept waiting too long. Either way, he wasn't that worried yet.

And his worries subsided completely when, the next morning, Granger approached him alone just before potions. She wouldn't make eye contact with him and murmured something so quietly that he couldn't hear it.

"Speak up," he told her smugly, knowing he had won.

"You know what I'm about to say anyway, what's the point?" she whispered venomously.

"Because I want to hear you say the words," Draco told her coldly. "I want to know that you've given up."

Granger was silent for a few seconds. Then she looked up at him through her exhausted eyes, her mouth wavering, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I need your help."

* * *

**A/N:**

**What made Hermione finally cave and ask for Draco's help? Find out next chapter (:**

**Thanks for your reviews, you guys rock :D**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo **


	5. Patience Required

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

It wasn't until three hours later at lunch that Hermione regretted asking Malfoy for his help. True, it had been another sleepless night after the most disturbing dream yet, but had it really been worth sacrificing her dignity for?

She pushed food around her plate, elbow on the table, resting her chin on her outstretched hand. Students chatted around her, their voices nothing more than a distant hum compared to the shriek of Hermione's doubts. Her eyes always on the plate before her, she wondered where Harry and Ron were. Perhaps there had been some last minute Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron had tagged along?

And they didn't tell me, she sighed, before shaking her head vigorously. Let's not slip down the self-pity route, shall we?

Aware of how odd she looked shaking her head at her food, Hermione coughed slightly and straightened up.

"Hello Hermione," came a glum voice to the side of her.

Hermione jumped and snapped her eyes on the boy sitting beside her. Neville Longbottom had taken a seat on the bench next to her and was chewing on a carrot stick with alarmingly oversized front teeth. Hermione's eyes widened as she spotted two huge, long ears stuck down to the back of Neville's head.

"Neville," she began cautiously. "What…"

"Transfiguration spell went wrong," Neville sighed. "I was practicing turning a mirror into a rabbit but the spell literally backfired and, well…" he trailed off with a self-conscious tug at his new ears, trying to flatten them down further.

"At least you're not a complete rabbit," Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful.

"But that was the aim of the spell!" Neville moaned. "At least if I were a full rabbit then I'd know I'd gotten the spell right!"

"You'll get it soon enough," Hermione encouraged. "Do you want me to find out how to change you back?"

"Yes, please," Neville sighed.

Hermione reached down to her bag and tried to conceal a smile as she spotted Neville's feet shrouded in thick white fur. When she had sat up straight, Harry and Ron were taking their places at the table. Both were watching Neville curiously.

"I don't know how to say this," Ron started slowly. "But…well, you look like a rabbit, mate."

"I know," Neville answered. "Spell rebounded from a mirror."

"And here I thought that only happened on TV shows," Harry commented lightly, grabbing an apple from the plate in front of him.

"On what?" Ron and Neville chorused.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a smile.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, biting into the apple. "You had any luck figuring out how to change back?"

"Nope," Neville answered, nibbling his carrot. "It's weird, I've never noticed how good these things are before."

"It's probably got something to do with the fact that you're a rabbit-man," Hermione told him absently, stifling a yawn that Harry and Ron caught instantly.

"Have you not been sleeping again?" Ron demanded, so incensed that he put down the bread roll he had been about to devour.

"Why are you so mad?" Hermione asked, affronted. "I'm the one…" with a glance at Neville, she stopped herself. "Neville, I think I see McGonagall over there, why don't you ask her to help change you back?"

"Won't she be angry that I got like this in the first place?" Neville asked anxiously, chewing on his lip instead of the carrot.

This looked so comical with his new rabbit teeth that Hermione tried not to smile.

"No," she lied. "I'm sure she'll gladly change you back."

His hope renewed, Neville ambled off, attracting the giggles and stares of some of the younger students who weren't quite used to the infamous Neville Longbottom yet.

"That was a bit harsh, you know McGonagall's going to be furious at him," Harry commented with a slight frown.

"I didn't want Neville hearing what I'm about to say," Hermione answered quietly. "I had my worst dream yet last night. Calling it a nightmare would be putting it lightly."

Their attention immediately caught, Ron and Harry leant in closer.

"I know that Zella is trying to show me something," she murmured. "In all the dreams before, I've woken up when she touched my face but this time the dream continued. I was awake and she led me through Hogwarts at night. I saw all the usual things: her body, the knife, her necklace." For a moment, Hermione was disturbed about how detached she was from the murder. "I expected her to stop but she kept going. She didn't stop until we reached the records room. The Head Boy and Head Girl's portraits were still up on the wall and she silently pointed to the names beneath the paintings. Of course, I already knew her name so just I smiled and nodded. For the first time, I swear that a flicker of a smile came onto her face. Made her seem less scary, which was definitely a good thing."

"You just know that ghosts are losing their edge when the fear factor goes," Ron sighed, shaking his head.

"Carry on Hermione," Harry said, nudging Ron in the ribs to shut him up.

"So then Zella pointed to the portrait of the Head Boy and I finally got a look at his name." She paused, uncertain if she should really tell her friends what she knew. "It was Trayton. Trayton Malfoy."

A small part of her had hoped - against all logic - that neither boy would make the connection. She was disappointed, therefore, when their faces clouded over darkly.

"Well that's it then!" Ron snapped, banging his fist down onto the table. "He must have had something to do with it!"

"Ron, come on," Hermione frowned. "Just because present-day Malfoy is a prick doesn't mean that all his ancestors were as well."

"That's my conclusion and I'm sticking to it," Ron answered stubbornly.

"The thing is, I'm not the only one being bothered by a ghost," Hermione began, the voice in her head warning her not to go through with this. "It turns out that Trayton isn't as over Zella's death as we would've thought and he needs help from someone…familiar."

"Please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going," Harry growled.

"Where's it going?" Ron asked, oblivious.

As Hermione sighed, Harry shot a dirty look over at the Slytherin table to where a certain platinum haired young man sat.

"No!" Ron exploded. Several people turned to look at him in alarm but he ignored them. "Hermione, you can't!"

"I have to," Hermione said with another sigh. "Otherwise I'll collapse out of sheer exhaustion and then it'll be my ghost you'll have to deal with."

"You can't seriously think you can trust him?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes from the Slytherins.

"Of course I don't," Hermione scoffed. "For all I know this could just be a wind up based on a gargantuan coincidence. But - as much as I hate to say it - he's the only hope I've got. He knows about Zella and might know how to get her to stop haunting me."

"Can't you just…I don't know, ask her nicely or something?" Ron asked.

"Probably not," Hermione answered. "Besides, I want to help her." She stared imploringly at her friends. "Can you accept this?"

Harry nodded reluctantly. "As soon as this goes pear-shaped, let us know and we'll hex Malfoy into oblivion."

"You promise?" Hermione asked with a small smile.

"We don't even have to wait until it goes pear-shaped," Ron mused. "We can do it now."

"But you won't," Hermione told him sternly. "I at least need to know what Malfoy knows before you go around putting curses on him." She pushed her barely touched plate away from her and picked up her bag from the floor. "I'm going to the library for a bit."

"Not to sound like your mum but you're not eating enough," Harry pointed out worriedly. "If you're not sleeping and not eating then you're just going to burn out. I mean, what are you running on?"

"Brainpower?" Ron suggested with a chuckle.

"Exactly," Hermione smiled. "I'm feeding my brain and that's enough. I suppose my sleeping pattern, or lack thereof, threw off everything else."

"Yeah, well you'll eat tonight even if I have to watch over you myself," Harry warned good naturedly.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione murmured with a smile. "I'll see you later."

She left, certain that the moment she was of earshot the boys would swap their disapproving words. She had to say she wasn't too thrilled with herself either but it seemed like teaming up with Malfoy really was the only way.

"Granger!"

Speaking of…Hermione thought with a sigh. She was barely out of the Great Hall and was already being hounded.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she asked wearily, turning around. "What is it?"

"Come to the library, I want to do some research," he informed her.

He started off towards the staircase before realizing that Hermione wasn't following him. He stopped, a scowl on his face.

"What, are you waiting for permission?" he asked scathingly.

Hermione just stood there, rather stunned.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she managed after a moment.

Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically. "Granger, it's a library, not a den of sin."

"When you put it like that…no."

The fact that she had actually wanted to go to the library in the first place didn't matter now. If she went, it would look like she was only doing it because Malfoy told her to.

Annoyed, Malfoy stalked back down to the steps and stopped before her.

"I recall you begging for my help," he told her darkly. "If you don't want to co-operate when I'm doing important research, then fine. I hope Zella drives you to insanity."

You're driving me to bleeding insanity, Hermione thought viciously as Malfoy walked slowly back up the steps.

What could she do but go after him? She needed his help.

She didn't comment on his smirk as she fell into step beside him. He didn't comment on her following him. He didn't have to; it was written all over his face.

In fact, neither of them commented on anything until they reached the library.

"I'm assuming you know all the good tables in here, Granger?" Malfoy asked slyly.

"I know the tables where Madam Pince can't see what we're doing," Hermione replied evenly, walking to such a table and carefully placing her bag down. Malfoy, on the other hand, threw his down carelessly and took a seat.

"First, I need to know how much you know about Zella," he told Hermione.

"Something to hide?" Hermione asked lightly, although it was a thought that had been troubling her a lot recently.

"You'll never know," Malfoy replied with an infuriating smile. "Now tell me."

Hermione reached into the bag and withdrew the letter that had come with her necklace. After a slight hesitation, she passed it across the table.

Malfoy skimmed it, his lip curling up about halfway through. Hermione felt her blood boil.

"What?" she demanded.

"Peppy?" Malfoy asked, his pale eyebrows rising as he referenced Hermione's parents' pet bird who, according to the letter, was doing well.

"I didn't name him," Hermione answered defensively.

"Peppy's a he?" Malfoy laughed in disbelief. "I knew Muggles were strange but this…?"

"Shut up and read," Hermione told him as her cheeks coloured.

For once, Malfoy did as requested, although Hermione caught him mouthing 'Peppy' in amusement a few times.

"So you know you're related to Zella," he summarised a minute later. "You know the necklace was a family heirloom. You know that Zella was murdered."

"That wasn't in the letter," Hermione frowned.

"No, that was an educated guess," Malfoy replied with contempt. "You wouldn't have begged for my help if you didn't know that."

Hermione felt her fists clenching under the table and found herself hissing:

"First of all, I didn't beg you, so you can drop that notion straight away. Secondly, I don't owe you anything. If you thought you could handle this yourself, you wouldn't have asked - or should I say 'begged' ? - for my necklace. We're stuck with each other. Deal with it."

"Stop with the sweet talk, Granger, you'll make me blush," Malfoy drawled.

"Forget it," Hermione snapped, snatching the letter from Malfoy and stuffing it into her bag. "Just forget it. I haven't had a proper night's sleep in over a week, I'm not eating properly, I have the patron saint of tragic love stalking me in my dreams and you're just sitting here making stupid comments about sweet talk and Peppy the bloody bird!"

Malfoy reclined in the chair, raising his eyebrows again.

"Are you done?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes," Hermione answered, still breathing heavily and feeling slightly foolish.

"Good," Malfoy answered. "Sit down and stop making an idiot of yourself. We have work to do."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had to alternate between this and my psychology essays tonight so if any Freud slips in there, just ignore it, lol.**

**So this was somewhat of a filler chapter really. More reactions from Harry and Ron will come next chapter, as well as more D/Hr interaction.**

**Thanks for your reviews, I'm really happy that you all seem to be enjoying (:**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**

**p.s - for those of you who were concerned, Neville managed to get changed back into his original self, although it cost him a night of detention for being so idiotic in the first place.**


	6. Speechless

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"You do realize that you're talking absolute nonsense, right?" Draco asked contemptuously, lounging comfortably back on the chair.

"Shut up," Granger replied absently, her bushy head buried in their fourth book that day. "It makes sense."

"Like hell it does." Draco rolled his eyes and began to drum his fingers on the desk for no other reason that to cause annoyance.

"Stop that," Granger told him sternly.

Draco drummed with both hands.

"I said, stop that!" Granger scowled, glancing up from the book in irritation. "You said you wanted to do research but so far I've been the one sitting here doing everything!"

Draco stared at her in genuine incredulity.

"You can't honestly expect me to sit there _reading_, do you?" he asked in horror.

"Perish the thought," Granger muttered.

"Good," Draco answered before smirking slightly. "After all, if I was actually expected to work then the information that you need might just fall out of my head."

"Speaking of that information, I'm going to start needing it really soon," Granger told him, looking him evenly in the eye. "Or at least some proof that you can help me."

"What's up, Granger?" he asked, leaning forward on the table. "Don't trust me?"

"Not for one second."

Draco smirked again as he processed this. "Smart girl. But how do Iknow that _I _can trust _you_ with the knowledge I have?"

That stumped her. She opened her mouth before pausing and closing it again. She thought for several seconds before answering.

"Because you have to."

"I'm afraid that's not good enough," Draco said with a mock sigh, enjoying this power.

"Fine," Granger shrugged. She snapped the book closed and stood up. "Then have fun researching on your own."

She swing her bag over her shoulder and strode angrily out of the library. Draco watched her go with disinterest; she'd be back.

He reached across the table to see what book she'd been perusing through.

'_Hogwarts: A History'? _Draco thought with considerable disdain. _Because forbidden love and murder would be under the contents page? For an intelligent girl, Granger can be an idiot sometimes._

"That book doesn't contain the real history of Hogwarts," a mournful voice whispered.

Draco jumped and looked up sharply. Trayton was hovering behind Granger's vacated seat and sadly looking at the book.

"Only the history that the castle wishes to portray," the ghost continued. "If people knew the truth…the deaths that had occurred…would they still come, I wonder?"

"Yes," Draco answered simply, going back to the book. "Some people love a sense of morbidity."

"Quite," Trayton said distastefully. "Have you had any luck with the necklace?"

"I'm getting there," Draco answered evasively. He quickly changed the topic. "Tell me more about the Sons of Slytherin."

"What more do you want to know?" Trayton asked, a sigh escaping from his lips.

"Anything. Everything."

"There really isn't that much to know," Trayton told him with a shrug. "We were a secret society. Membership was by invitation only. There were initiation rites-"

"What sort of initiation rites?" Draco interrupted.

"The kind not meant for young ears to hear about," Trayton said sadly.

"But you were about my age when you completed them," Draco pointed out with a frown.

"Exactly," Trayton murmured, directing his gaze downwards. "This is why I'm reluctant to tell you more. We did things that I am not proud of." There was a dark pause, which immediately lightened with his next line. "Of course, we did things that I am immensely proud of, such as stealing crates of ale from the Groundskeeper's hut and smuggling it back into the castle. That was a fun night."

Draco found himself laughing. He listened to Trayton relay tales that wouldn't be out of place in old-fashioned tales about misbehaving boys at boarding school. Which, he supposed, they were. The ghost carefully edited out the darker things that the Sons of Slytherin had done, quickly stopping a story if it was taking a sinister turn and changing it to something else.

"Then there was the skinny dipping incident," Trayton continued with a chuckle. "The Giant Squid didn't like that very much. That's the first time I really noticed Zella, you know. After our…night time swim, I mean. She was out strolling with Fin at the time."

"Fin?" Draco repeated.

"Finian Everett," Trayton confirmed. "He hated his name, insisted everyone called him Fin. He was a Gryffindor, Zella's best friend. Mainly because of this, all the Slytherins called him Finian to irritate him. It was very amusing at the time."

"I'm sure," Draco answered dryly. "I'd comment on the odd names in use when you were at school but…well, it'd be hypocritical of me. So, did Zella and Fin ever-?"

"No, no. She swore that they were just friends," Trayton answered quickly, reading Draco's mind. "He didn't like us being together though. In fact, I sometimes wonder if he was the one who betrayed us."

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be loyal?" Draco asked, sneering as though this trait wasn't commendable.

"Loyalty was in short supply when I was with Zella," Trayton sighed. "In the whole school I was loyal only to the Sons of Slytherin and to her."

"I suppose I could always ask Granger if she knew who betrayed you," Draco mused. "Her dreams of Zella are getting more powerful, she's bound to know who did it soon enough."

"I'd rather not know, if it's all the same," Trayton answered unhappily. "I've spent so long wondering but, really, what will change? We'll still both be dead, as will the traitor."

Draco shrugged. "Well, whatever. I've actually got some studying to do, so if you want to go I won't blame you."

Trayton smiled. "I'll see you soon then."

"No doubt," Draco nodded as the ghost vanished.

* * *

"I'll kill Malfoy," Hermione seethed as she met up with Harry and Ron at lunch.

"Why?" Harry asked, momentarily taken aback by this greeting.

"Again, not that there's any reason needed," Ron reminded.

"He isn't sharing anything of what he knows," Hermione growled. "He's got me sitting there leafing through book after bleeding book while he reclines the morning away!"

"You spent the whole morning there?" Harry frowned. "That's not like you to miss lessons."

"I lost track of time," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "Besides, the teachers know how stressed I am. Considering I'm ahead in all of their lessons due to my lack of sleep, I don't think they'll blame me for taking a day off."

"So you're spending the afternoon with Malfoy as well?" Ron scowled.

"Not by choice," Hermione told him darkly as they sat down.

"I hate to say I told you so but that doesn't mean that I won't," Ron commented gleefully. "I told you so."

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione answered acerbically. "That makes me feel so much better about everything."

"Don't mind him, he's just worried," Harry assured her. "We both are."

"We don't want you hanging out with Malfoy," Ron told her.

Hermione felt as if she had entered an unofficial intervention.

"_I_ don't want me hanging out with Malfoy," Hermione frowned. "Unfortunately Zella has other ideas."

"She didn't specifically say 'go and make friends with the descendant of the man who killed me' though, did she?" Ron said, shoving a bread roll into his mouth.

"We don't know it was Trayton who killed her," Hermione reminded him. "He seems just as much a victim as she was. And she doesn't say anything, specifically or otherwise. I don't think I've ever heard her speak."

"Maybe she's shy?" Harry suggested, reaching for his own food. "But back to Malfoy. You shouldn't be researching with him. Can't you just get the information out of him and go it alone? Or, at least, with us to help you?"

"No. He won't tell me anything." Absently, she reached for a large bowl of soup and ladled spoonfuls into her smaller bowl. "He's so arrogant and lazy and spoiled and impossible and did I mention arrogant?" She took a sip of her soup before taking a bread roll to go with it. "I swear, he knows something that could help me but just because I'm me, he isn't telling! I hate him, I really do!" She glanced up to see her friends staring at her. "What?"

"You're eating," Ron pointed out.

"I'm hungry," Hermione answered with a shrug before she understood what he meant. "Oh. Right. Yeah."

"All that rage worked you up an appetite?" Harry asked, laughing.

"I think it did," Hermione nodded. "Before you know it I'll be angry enough to have an undisturbed sleep!"

Inevitably, this didn't happen. Hermione awoke breathing heavily at midnight, as per usual, that very night. She reflected one what she had just dreamt before her blood ran cold.

"_I'm sorry but…I don't understand what you want from me," Hermione said, fully aware that she was dreaming as the ever silent Zella led her down the familiar Hogwarts corridor._

_Zella glanced back with nothing but a smile and a nod in the direction they were going._

"_I know you want me to follow you, okay, I understand that!" Hermione called after her. "But we're visiting the same places, night after night! Is there something that I'm missing?" She scowled, anger and frustration rising. "Why won't you talk to me?"_

_She didn't spare a look for Zella's body on the floor as she passed it, having seen it too many times. However the ghost Zella stopped just beside her body and knelt down beside it. She stroked her body's light hair, matted with blood, softly and mournfully._

_Hermione followed her lead uncertainly. At Zella's nod of approval, she reached out to touch the body. Even in the dream world, the skin was icy to touch, the blood slick. Troubled but still unsure of what she was supposed to be seeing, Hermione turned to Zella for guidance._

_Zella lifted her fingertips to her mouth, kissed them gently, and lowered them to her body's blue lips. She rested them there and looked at Hermione sorrowfully._

_Understanding for once, Hermione tentatively reached out to touch the body's mouth. With quivering hands she prised the lips apart with the tips of her fingers. What she found repulsed her._

_The teeth were all stained with blood, some chipped in a way that showed force had been applied. Beyond this was a dark lump coated in even more blood. Hermione recoiled, her hand over her mouth to combat the vomit that was welling._

_Whoever had murdered Zella had also cut out her tongue._

**

* * *

**

A/N:

**Hello everyone. I've updated earlier this time, but with a shorter chapter. The north of England (where I just so happen to live) has been hit was mass amounts of snow. I had two days off from college due to this and, when I wasn't giggling like a five year old with my friends and falling over, I was writing this. Hope you all enjoyed!**

**So, the mystery deepens a little, hm? Thanks so much for your reviews!**

**Hope you've had a great week! (:**

**- Momo**


	7. Wake Up

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"Well, that's put me off my breakfast," Ron grumbled as Hermione finished recounting last night's dream. He pushed away his food and gazed at it mournfully.

"Thanks for your concern," Hermione answered icily. "It's so nice to know you care."

"I care," Ron reassured her. "I'd just care more after a hearty breakfast."

"So what's the plan for today, then?" Harry cut in before Hermione could retaliate. "I thought we could all walk around the grounds for a bit, maybe see Hagrid?"

"I can't," Hermione sighed. "I need to tell Malfoy about Zella and her missing tongue. The sooner he knows, then the sooner he withholds help, and the sooner I get it out of him then the sooner I can get my life back on track."

"Will this be happening soon, or…?"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione told him with a slight frown. "And if you're so concerned, ask him yourself."

"We might just do that," Harry mused thoughtfully.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Yeah, what?"

"Think about it," Harry urged Ron.

"Think about what?" Ron asked, dumbfounded. "Sorry mate, you've lost me. Talk to Malfoy willingly? I don't think so." He turned to Hermione. "I hope you're happy. Your dream made Harry reject his breakfast and now he's gone insane."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Hermione mock-sighed.

"Oi, come on you two," Harry frowned. "I'm serious. We could keep an eye on Malfoy while the two of you are researching. I'm sure Hagrid won't mind us not visiting and it's not like we've got anything better to do."

Which was how, ten minutes later, they stood in the Great Hall and waited for Malfoy. He strolled through the doors about five minutes later, alone. Without a glance sideways, he made his way up the staircase.

"Ignorant sod," Ron muttered. Harry nodded his agreement.

"Malfoy!" Hermione called after him, not listening to her friends.

Malfoy turned around slowly and descended the few steps that he had climbed. There was a smirk on his face as he reached them.

"Family outing?" he asked Hermione, his grey eyes flickering to Ron and Harry. "Make sure they wrap up warm, it's cold outside."

"Actually, they're joining us today," Hermione told him coolly.

Malfoy's smirk vanished.

"Why?" was all he managed to ask.

"Because we don't trust you as far as we could throw you," Harry answered. "For all we know, you could be leading Hermione right into some sort of trap."

"If I were to spend time and effort into making a trap, I'd be sure to make my target something more than a Mudblood," he said harshly. "And anyway, this is a private party."

"We already know about what you'll be researching," Ron told him scathingly. "It's not like it's some big secret or anything."

Malfoy scowled and rounded on Hermione.

"You told them?" he demanded.

"Why are you surprised?" Hermione asked, still, though she should be used to it by now, stung from the Mudblood comment.

Malfoy paused for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Off to the library it is then," Ron said. He turned to Hermione. "That is where we're going, right?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "Come on."

"You three seem to have everything in hand so I'll just-"

"You too, Malfoy," Hermione cut him off with a glare. "I had another dream last night. A big one."

"Did you dream about Weasley finally asking you out?" Malfoy asked maliciously as they began to walk. "Touching, but I really don't want to hear about it."

"Do you think anyone would blame me if I pushed him down the stairs?" Ron wondered loudly.

Malfoy was quiet after that.

* * *

"And that's when I saw that her tongue was missing," Granger concluded with a sigh.

"Missing?" Draco asked with a frown, leaning forwards onto the table.

"As in, cut out," Granger clarified. "Which is why she never spoke in any of my dreams. She couldn't." She shuddered slightly. "There was so much blood."

Draco felt a jab of sympathy for her before he hastily quashed it.

"Right, so she was stabbed and her tongue was cut out," he concluded with clinical detachment. "Are there any spells that require a human tongue?"

"What're you asking her for, you're a Slytherin aren't you?" Ron called from the table next to them. "Didn't you have those types of spells as your nursery rhymes?"

"Yes, 'Twinkle, Twinkle Tongueless Star' was always popular in our house," Draco shot back sarcastically. He turned back to the table only to see Granger trying and failing to stifle a smile. "What?" he asked bitterly.

"Nothing," she answered unconvincingly. At his continued glare, she shrugged. "I didn't know 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star' existed in the wizarding world."

"It doesn't," Draco replied shortly.

"Then how do you know about it?" Granger asked curiously.

"My uncle bought me a Muggle nursery rhyme book when I was young," he answered, staring determinedly down at the book in his hands. "Thought it'd amuse me."

"It obviously did if you remember some of the titles," Granger pointed out with a smile. "Do you know any more?"

"No," Draco lied. "Go look for books on Dark spells."

"Yes, because they'll just _hand _a book like that over to a student?" Hermione asked, surprised at his lack of intelligence. "I don't think so."

"You're the golden child around here, make them," he shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

"Don't be ridiculous," Granger snapped. "The only way we'd have access to those types of books is if we were…"

"If we were…?" Draco prompted irritably.

"Harry," Granger said, completely ignoring him and standing up to address her friend. "Do you think we could borrow your invisibility cloak?"

* * *

"This was a bad idea," Hermione whispered, many hours later.

She and Malfoy crept down the silent, shadowy corridors towards the library. Malfoy cautiously held up a lantern to light their way, making sure not to burn the cloak they huddled under.

"This was _your_ idea," he reminded in a hiss.

"I know," she hissed back. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

They carefully made their way towards the library doors, ignoring each other determinedly. They had to be in close proximity in order for them to fit underneath the cloak and it was an uncomfortable journey for both of them.

"If my father ever found out about this…" Malfoy muttered as they reached their destination.

"He'd disown you, you'd forever be a laughing stock in the wizarding world, you'd never be able to marry a Pureblood and die a lonely disgrace," Hermione finished for him in a bored voice, shivering slightly as his breath warmed her neck. "That about sum it up?"

"You missed out the part about the cat," Malfoy told her after a moment.

"What?" She turned her head around, not realizing how close it would make their faces. Her cheeks coloured and she quickly turned back around.

"I wouldn't die alone, I'd get a cat or something," Malfoy shrugged after the awkward moment was over.

"I pegged you as more of a reptile person," Hermione frowned.

"Because I'm a Slytherin? How original."

"Shut up."

"Make me," was Malfoy's mature retort.

"_Alohomora,_" Hermione whispered, tapping her wand lightly on the thick library doors.

"Why do they lock the library, anyway?" Malfoy wondered as they made their way inside. "Afraid someone might steal a book?"

"Probably," Hermione nodded as she relocked the door and shrugged the cloak off herself.

"I was kidding," Malfoy said in disgust, also removing the cloak and slinging it over his shoulders. "And I can't believe that Potter hasn't had this confiscated."

"Good thing he hasn't, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get in here and this whole thing would've taken a lot longer," Hermione replied waspishly.

"Heavens forbid," Malfoy said dryly. He held the lantern aloft and swung it around slightly. "It's pitch black in here."

"Well, it is half an hour from midnight," Hermione reminded him absently.

"I meant, how are we supposed to find our way around?" Malfoy said, his voice tense in the darkness.

"Afraid of the dark?" Hermione taunted lightly.

"Of course not," Malfoy snapped back, a little too quickly. "Let's just find what we're looking for and get out."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione agreed. "There's some windows on the other side of the library, that should give us some moonlight to work with."

"And until then?"

"Don't trip," was the only advice Hermione could give.

"That's the most insightful comment I've ever heard," Malfoy muttered. "Thank you so much for sharing."

Hermione scowled into the darkness as she took careful steps.

"Do you always complain so much?"

"Yes."

His short and truthful answer had her smiling…but only because she was sure he couldn't see her.

When they reached the Restricted Section, Hermione exhaled quietly and tried to gather her confidence.

"Never done anything like this, Granger?" Malfoy asked, amused.

"I'm friends with Harry Potter," she answered scathingly. "Of course I have."

Without another word, she slipped the cloak away from Malfoy and threw it over both of them. It settled neatly and swayed with them as they crept into the Restricted Section. Though she would never say it, Hermione was glad that there was someone else to go with her into the shadowy, usually forbidden section of the library. Even if it was Malfoy.

"Just start scanning the shelves," Hermione whispered once they were surrounded by towering bookcases. "If a title looks promising then take it, read the back cover, but don't open it."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Malfoy said with a scornful laugh. "How are we supposed to read a book if we can't open it?"

To prove his point, he selected a book at random and made to open it. Hermione quickly but firmly put her hand on top of his to stop him. She glanced upwards in a reproaching manner, but her scolding died on her lips as she found Malfoy was looking straight back down at her. Her breath caught in her throat as he quirked up an eyebrow and she retracted her hand as though his touch burned her. She quickly turned her back on him in order to scan for more books. Thankfully, it seemed Malfoy had taken her advice and put the book back without opening it.

For minutes they stood in silence, their tired eyes drifting over the book titles illuminated by the moonlight and the lantern Malfoy held wearily aloft.

"I think I've found something," Malfoy murmured after an age.

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"I'm not completely incompetent, you know," he muttered. "And yes. Well, it's not about tongue removal or anything, but it could relate to Trayton." He realized that he hadn't told Granger the name of his ancestor. "He's my-"

"I know who he is," Hermione cut off with a nod. "Zella showed me. And I still have yet to meet him, by the way."

"He's a ghost, he's not used to meeting new people," Malfoy told her, entirely unconvincingly.

"What's the matter, can't trust me with him?" Hermione asked, starting to get annoyed.

"More like the other way around," Malfoy told her darkly. "Do you want to look at this book or not?"

"'_The Secret Societies Of Hogwarts_'," Hermione read, squinting as she did. "Trayton was in a secret society?"

"Yeah," Malfoy answered, looking away uncomfortably. "Look, it's probably midnight now and I really think that we should take the book and just quit while we're ahead."

"Alright," Hermione said, slowly and suspiciously.

She secured the cloak above them again as Malfoy tucked the book protectively underneath his arm. They began to walk once again in sync, only stopping when they were about to exit the Restricted Section.

"What's wrong, why are we stopping?" Malfoy frowned.

But Hermione barely heard him. The room was spinning and there was a dreadful pain in her abdomen. She reached out for something and clutched it, before losing both her grip and her consciousness. She fell to the floor, dragging the cloak with her.

"Granger?" Draco asked, alarmed.

He fell to his knees and removed the cloak that made half her body invisible, throwing it roughly to the side. Panicking, he prodded and shoved her but she didn't wake.

"Stupid Mudblood," he fretted as loudly as he dared. "Wake up! Granger!" Deciding there was nothing else for it, he slapped her face. "Granger! Hermione!"

He swore under his breath until the dread that seized his stomach eased ever so slightly.

"Don't you dare leave me to carry you back to the Gryffindor dorms, I won't do it," he threatened her unconscious (but, thankfully, breathing) form. "I have more pride than that." He waited for a moment before running a hand through his hair in agitation. "Come on, wake up!"

He sighed. He could either wait here under the invisibility cloak and let the librarian find Granger in the morning or hide them both under the invisibility cloak and wait for her to wake up. It didn't occur to him to just leave her there until a minute later, which concerned him. When did he become so selfless? But she could be seriously hurt, and just leaving her here could cause long term damage.

"I hate you for this," he muttered, placing the book they were stealing on her stomach. He put one hand under her knees and the other under her neck and lifted her up. Thank Merlin she wasn't heavy. Of course, there was the problem of the invisibility cloak that lay strewn over the floor beside them.

"Oh, for the love of…" he muttered, placing Granger rather unceremoniously back onto the floor and scooping up the cloak. "Right, how is this going to work?"

He got under the cloak and picked Granger back up, arranging it so that they were both hidden. It took a lot of effort and a great deal of frustration had to now be vented.

"When you wake up, I'll knock you out again myself for all the trouble you're causing me," he warned Granger.

Her hair tickled his wrist and arm but he gritted his teeth and bore it. It took even more time and effort to get out of the damned library, so much so that Draco swore he would never step foot in the bloody place again.

He walked down the corridors which seemed a hundred times more menacing now that his only companion was an unconscious girl. If he didn't need her for research and her necklace…

As he carried her down towards the hospital wing, he wondered what he would tell her when she woke up. More importantly, he wondered what he would tell Madam Pomfrey in approximately two minutes when she asked him what he was doing with an unconscious Gryffindor. It wouldn't look good. Maybe he could just leave her there…? No, he had to make sure she was found.

He reached the hospital wing doors and was suddenly very conscious of waking people up. Leaning Granger against the door carefully and keeping her there with one hand, he used the other to knock. Realizing he still had the cloak on, he hastily tore it off and shoved it under his arm, along with the book.

"Come on, come on, come on," he whispered impatiently before knocking again.

After an eternity, the doors clicked open to reveal a tired Madam Pomfrey in her nightgown.

"Mr. Malfoy, what…?" she asked sleepily, before Draco almost shoved Granger through the door. She immediately snapped to attention. "What happened?"

"I don't know, I found her like this," he lied.

"Help me get her onto a bed," Madam Pomfrey said, unable to cope with Granger herself.

When this had been accomplished, she turned to glare at Draco.

"It's none of my business what the two of you have been up to this evening, but I will need you to be truthful about her condition."

"I don't know anything about it," he told her, actually being truthful. At Madam Pomfrey's continued glare, he shuffled uncomfortably. "I know that she's been having bad dreams that have been keeping her up recently."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing, instead bustling off to find a remedy.

It didn't hit Draco about what he'd said until a few seconds later. Madam Pomfrey couldn't honestly think that he'd…with Granger…?! If she told anyone…!

His silent concern was broken when the healer came back with a small bottle.

"A powerful sleeping potion," she told him, wafting the bottle under Granger's nose. "This'll make her sleep properly."

"Thanks," Draco answered awkwardly.

Should he stay awhile longer or should he go? First he had to clear things up.

"About tonight-"

"I won't say a word about the two of you," Madam Pomfrey said with a sly smile.

That was it.

Whether Granger needed him or not, he was out of there like a shot.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter.**

**I tried to incorporate a lot of the panic that goes on when someone around you faints. My friend had a fit and almost fainted once (in the middle of a concert, no less!) and it was the scariest few minutes of my life. I slapped her, I yelled at her, I poked her…just like Draco did with Hermione. Again, this was in the middle of a concert so it was pretty embarrassing, but hey. My friend was fine in the end.**

**Thank you very much for your reviews, they're greatly appreciated (:**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**


	8. The Seduction Of Sedation

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione was tired…so tired. Her eyelids fluttered, unsure if they can stay up by themselves. Her whole body felt like it was made of concrete. The only thing that seemed to be working properly were her ears, as she could hear voices:

"Do you think Zella had anything to do with this?"

"Wouldn't put it past her. Stupid ghost doesn't have any respect for sleeping schedules."

"How did she even get in here?"

"Dunno. Rumour is some third year found her collapsed and alerted the professors. Could just be rubbish though…"

"Well, we can ask her when she…hey, is she waking up?"

Hermione felt a cold hand press against her forehead and she tried to frown but her muscles weren't responding as she wanted them to.

"G'off," she muttered irritably.

"What?" the voice she now recognized as Harry's murmured as he leant down closer to hear her.

"Get off," Hermione repeated, slowly coming around from what felt like being hit with eighteen thousand broomsticks at once.

"Oh. Sorry."

His hand lifted and Hermione opened her eyes fully. Ron and Harry were stood over her anxiously.

"Hi," she whispered, her throat scratching as she tried to get the word out. She coughed and grimaced at the pain it brought. "Ouch. My throat feels like I drank sandpaper."

"She's not making any sense," Ron said worriedly. "Should we get Pomfrey?"

"I _am _making sense," Hermione insisted. She flicked her eyes around the room. "Why am I in the hospital wing?"

"You collapsed the other night," Harry explained gently, perching on the side of her bed. "Someone found you and brought you in here. Madam Pomfrey gave you a potion or something that enabled a dreamless sleep. You've been out for awhile."

"How long is awhile?" Hermione asked, suddenly concerned. How many classes had she missed?

"It's Monday night now and you passed out Saturday night," Ron told her, standing awkwardly on the other side of the bed. "We were really worried."

"Did you get my homework?" Hermione asked, her hand falling on Harry's as she looked up at him seriously.

"Yes," Harry smiled. "Of course we did. You got a surprising amount of it considering you were only asleep for one school day."

"I should get up," Hermione told herself decisively, although she felt nowhere near ready to do so.

"Oh, no you don't," Ron answered, pushing her back down gently when she made to sit up. "You're exhausted, don't try and deny it. You need to rest. The professors don't have a problem with it…well, except for Snape. Miserable bugger."

"He's going to be so mad at me," Hermione groaned, closing her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured. "No doubt I'll breathe the wrong way or do something else to direct his anger back at me."

"The way it should be," Hermione nodded with a weak laugh. She tried and failed to stifle a yawn. "What was in that sleeping potion anyway? It's really strong."

"It's supposed to be," Harry told her. "We'll leave you to get some more sleep."

"Yeah, visiting hours are nearly over anyway," Ron agreed. "Night Hermione."

"Goodnight," Hermione smiled back to both boys.

As Hermione sank back into the pillow and closed her eyes, Harry and Ron walked out of the darkened, cavernous room. As he had been the previous times they had visited Hermione, Draco Malfoy stood waiting for them outside the hospital wing doors.

"How is she?" he asked, the same as he had done previously.

"Awake," Ron answered shortly.

He wasn't happy with their arrangement. On Sunday morning they had discovered Malfoy about to enter the hospital wing and quizzed him on it. When it was revealed that he was there to visit Hermione, neither Harry or Ron took it very well. In fact, the phrase 'get the hell lost' may have been used. Several times. A grudging agreement had finally been reached that, although Malfoy wasn't to go anywhere near Hermione when she was so vulnerable, he could be updated on her progress.

"So I can see her?" Malfoy pressed, standing up straight against the wall he had been leaning on.

"No," Harry scowled. "She'll be back asleep soon anyway."

"More the reason for me to see her _now_," Malfoy told him, his jaw tightening. "I wouldn't want to see her if it wasn't important."

"Your definitions of important are surprisingly insignificant," Harry told him with narrowed eyes, silently thanking that Hermione's vocabulary had apparently rubbed off on him. "So no. You aren't going to go anywhere near her while she's still in the hospital wing."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and leant towards Harry threateningly.

"Fine," he hissed. "When she mysteriously collapses again, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

"Is that a threat?" Ron asked, his fist clenching.

"It's a fact," Malfoy corrected coldly. "You know as well as I do that she can't take sleeping potions for the rest of her life. Her nightmares will catch up to her and next time I might not be there to-"

"What do you have anything to do with her fainting?" Harry interjected angrily. There was a pause as comprehension dawned. "_You _took her to the hospital wing?"

"Against my better judgement," Malfoy said with a smug nod. "If I'd have known that I wouldn't get anything out of it then I would've left her there."

_Thwack!_

Ron smacked his knuckles into Malfoy's face, almost quivering with rage.

"Ron, leave him!" Harry shouted as Malfoy looked set to lunge forward after recoiling. He stepped in front of his best friend, glowering at Malfoy.

"I knew you'd bring Hermione nothing but trouble," Ron spat. "Stay away from her!"

"Ron," Harry murmured, glancing backwards. "Come on, let's just go. He's not worth it."

"Damn right," Ron growled, glaring at Malfoy.

After a few more moments of silent yet heated tension, Ron stalked away. Harry followed him quietly, pausing only to shoot a warning glare at Malfoy.

Draco, of course, ignored all the looks of hatred he had been thrown. He was too preoccupied with the consuming anger coursing through his body. For the first time in his life, he had actually _tried to help somebody_. Yes, it had also benefited him but only to a certain extent. He should've just taken her damn necklace from day one. Would've saved him a lot of trouble. A _lot_ of trouble.

He lifted his eyebrows as an idea struck him. Visiting hours at the hospital wing were almost over, but they weren't just yet. And Potter and Weasley had stormed off so couldn't know if he sneaked in…

He opened the doors resolutely and glanced behind himself before closing them again quietly.

"Visiting hours are almost over, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey warned as Draco strolled casually over to where Granger lay.

"This won't take long," he promised her. "Hello," he added in surprise as Granger looked up at him through eyes that were struggling to stay open. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"So did I," Granger replied in voice so laden with weariness that it made her sound like a child. "But maybe the potion doesn't kick in for a couple of minutes?"

So he had a couple of minutes to pass before he took her necklace. Fun.

"Do you…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you remember anything about the night you fainted?"

"Not really," she answered, then closed her eyes for so long that Draco thought she had fallen asleep.

He leant forward to remove her necklace before jumping back as she spoke again.

"I remember that I was with you though, so chances are that you were the one who brought me here?"

"What?" Draco asked, almost spluttering. "W-why would I want to do something…I mean, you're a-"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Granger assured him with a small laugh. "Otherwise your reputation as Evil personified would be ruined, am I right?"

Draco chuckled and almost immediately flinched. _Since when do I _chuckle_?_

"Right," he instead settled for answering.

He had no problem letting Potter and Weasley know that he was the one who had helped their friend, but for some reason he couldn't tell the girl herself. Didn't matter anyway. Once she discovered that he had stolen her necklace she wouldn't want anything more to do with him. Which was good. He could do without her constant references to a text that he hadn't read, even if she could be funny sometimes. And, yes, okay, he would miss having someone intelligent around, even if he spent a lot of the time visualizing bad things happening to her friends. Of course, he didn't _have _to steal the necklace…but then, things would prove difficult for him in the long run. No, it was better to go with the instincts he was used to and just fend for himself.

"Draco?" Granger murmured, catching him completely off-guard. This was due more to the fact that she had called him by his first name than anything else.

"Uh…yeah?" was his intelligent response.

"I'm glad you're here," she finished off, her eyes slowly sliding closed. "And thanks for bringing me here when I fainted. I had a theory about that but I guess that I forgot…"

Her words became more and more indistinguishable until she stopped talking completely.

"That was odd," Draco muttered, making a mental note to keep Granger away from any further sleeping potions, as it obviously made her delusional.

He found that his hands were shaking slightly as he looked around the room for any potential witnesses. When he saw none, everyone in the relatively empty hospital wing either asleep or being tended to, he slipped his hand under the unconscious Granger's neck and felt for the clasp of her necklace.

"Merlin, you have a lot of hair," he told her as strands of it tickled his wrist. "Seriously, do you never get this cut or has it always had the consistency of a forsaken shrub?"

He found the clasp and reached with his other hand to undo it. But the stupid, fiddly little thing wouldn't undo. Thinking that it was stuck fast, he yanked the chain roughly in such a way that, if she hadn't been heavily sedated, Granger would've screamed at him for. When it didn't yield, he scowled and repeatedly tugged at it. He was definitely no jewellery expert, but something was amiss here.

The necklace wouldn't come off.

_The necklace would not come off!_

"Wonderful," he hissed, trying to pull the necklace apart.

"Mr, Malfoy, what on earth are you doing?"

Draco jumped and quickly retracted his arms. However, Madam Pomfrey folded her arms impatiently and glared at him for a response.

"I…lost something," Draco improvised.

"Under Miss. Granger's neck?" was the highly sceptical response.

"…Yes?"

Madam Pomfrey's face softened suddenly and she uncrossed her arms.

"I know that this must be a difficult time for you, with Hermione unconscious. I know that you must miss her terribly." She patted a horrified Draco on his arm sympathetically. "If you want to spend more alone time with her then I won't begrudge you it."

"Thanks?" Draco managed, his face a frozen mask of ill-concealed distaste.

"Of course," Madam Pomfrey said with a smile and an understanding nod. "You just hold in there."

She walked away, murmuring to herself about the beauty of young love. Draco, meanwhile, suddenly felt like downing the entire contents of the potions cabinet in an effort to forget that conversation. A healer thought a Pureblood was in love with a Mudblood? It was like a sketch show, a very badly scripted, unrealistic sketch show.

He shook his head determinedly to get rid of the sudden mental image. Giving up on stealing the necklace (again; he was the worst would-be thief ever) he nodded goodnight to the unconscious Granger and left.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello and Merry Christmas (Happy Holidays)! This was somewhat of a filler chapter, although there are a couple of hints about what's to come in the future. Thanks for your reviews, they are so very much appreciated! :D**

**Now, because I'm in a good mood from plotting the downfall of my ex (bad break-up, don't ask :P) and because it's Christmas and because I have a strong - yet healthy - affection for you, gentle reader, I'd like to write some Dramione fluff. You don't have to read it because it isn't related to the future plot of 'Echo' in any way. It's just, y'know, a random happy drabble.**

**Anyway, happy holidays everybody!**

**- Momo**

* * *

"Grang…uh, Hermione, wait a second!" Draco called, still finding her first name foreign on his tongue.

Hermione stopped treading through the snow and turned around, smiling as she saw who had called her name. Harry and Ron stiffened beside her, still uncertain about their new truce with their once-enemy. They watched Draco walk briskly across the grounds, his scarf flapping in the light yet icy breeze, until he reached them.

"Draco," Hermione greeted in a voice warm enough to melt the snow around them.

Ron and Harry nodded in a way that was between cold and friendly. Draco responded in the same way before turning to Hermione, the only one who actually seemed glad to see him.

"Take a walk?" he asked awkwardly, his breath misting in front of him.

"That's kind of what I'm doing," she said with a slight laugh, gesturing around herself.

"I meant, with me," Draco corrected, daring to glance at her.

"Okay," she answered before turning worriedly to her friends. "I mean, if that's-"

"Just go," Harry told her with a smile. "Consider it our Christmas present to you."

Draco and Hermione began their walk, trying to hold a conversation and avoid being bombarded with magic snowballs. One was difficult but combine the two and it made for an uncomfortable walk.

"So, they give you a walk with me as a Christmas present?" Draco tried, raising his voice above the playful shouts of the lower years around them. "Seems like more of a consolation prize to me."

"They'll get me something else," Hermione assured him, looking ahead to the forest which seemed more enchanted than usual under the cover of winter. "Although it might be another box of chocolates…they're not always great with Christmas presents for girls."

"Who is?" Draco muttered, conscious of the small, badly wrapped parcel in his gloved hand.

"Yes, because boys are easy to buy for," Hermione scoffed, kicking a small mound of snow out of the way.

"We are!" Draco protested. "It's difficult to get a girl something. They're stupid."

"What?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Really? Because it sounded to me like you just called my entire gender stupid. That's a rather rash generalization."

Draco floundered for a moment before he realized that Hermione was joking. A small but playful smile had appeared on her lips. It lit up her whole face, Draco noticed with fascination.

"I meant that they're stupid to buy for," he corrected. "It's difficult to get them something personal but not too personal."

"That applies to boys as well." She glanced up and stopped walking. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"A little further," he told her. When she didn't start walking, he frowned slightly but tried to hide it with a joke. "What's the matter, don't trust me?"

Hermione smiled and began to walk with him, but remained silent.

"I suppose it's understandable that you don't trust me yet," Draco muttered, more to himself that to Hermione.

"I trust you," Hermione assured him with a smile that made Draco's heart skip a beat. "I'd maybe trust you a little more if I knew where we were going though."

"But that would ruin the surprise," he pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

Unable to argue with this, Hermione remained silent until the trees of the Forbidden Forest began to impose upon them.

"Draco?"

"Just a little further," he promised again.

"You're really abusing my trust here," she joked with an undercurrent of hesitation.

Still, she followed him into the forest until they came to a small clearing where the snow lay beautifully untouched. The trees stood around them, tall and proud. Icicles hung from their branches like decorations.

"I got you something," Draco blurted out suddenly. "For Christmas."

Hermione tore her eyes away from their surroundings to look at him. He offered her a small gift and she took it curiously.

"Was I stupid to buy for?" she teased.

"Incredibly," Draco groaned.

She laughed and tore at the wrapping paper. Like any boy, Draco had stuck Spellotape anywhere and everywhere and hoped for the best. It made the present difficult to get into but she was determined. Her gloved hands trembled slightly and she hoped he didn't notice.

"It's nothing much," Draco hastened to explain as Hermione got closer to unwrapping the paper.

"I'm sure it's…" she trailed off as the wrapping paper fell to the ground. She held up a golden brooch inset with red gems and turned it over and over. "Wow," she breathed.

The gems spelt out the letters HG in a subtle, understated way. The brooch was circular with wavy edges and Hermione couldn't remember when she had last seen something so delicately stunning. She caressed it gently before pinning it to her chest and looking back up at Draco.

"Thank you," she murmured. "But…"

"You don't like it?" Draco guessed worriedly.

"I love it," Hermione corrected. "But you didn't have to, was what I was going to say."

"I wanted to," Draco told her. "I know that Pott…Harry and Ron haven't completely forgiven me yet but you've made me feel welcome."

_So it's just a thank you gift, _Hermione thought, unable to quell the crushing disappointment she felt. Well, what else had she thought it meant?

"Thank you," she repeated, turning around so Draco couldn't see her eyes, stupidly filling up with tears. She was so ungrateful.

She jumped slightly when Draco's hand rested softly on her shoulder. She tilted her head around, surprised but unmoving when she realized how close they were to one another. He was standing so closely behind her that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

"I'd hoped you'd like it," he told her quietly. "It took me ages to find. I wanted something that was just right. Something that you deserved."

"You think I deserve nice things?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"You deserve so much more," Draco answered sincerely.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned around quickly. What she had been about to say died on her lips. Draco was so close. It would be uncomfortable in any other situation. But neither pulled away.

"Thank you," she whispered, and leant in towards him.

She kissed him.

Just once.

Just lightly.

But still, a kiss.

Then she pulled away.

"Merry Christmas," Draco said, when he found his voice.

And then he kissed her back.


	9. StarCrossed Lovers

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"Been to visit Hermione again?"

"Yeah," Draco answered to the newly-appeared Trayton, offhandedly. The ghost wasn't even making him jump anymore, even when he popped out of nowhere. "What's it to you?"

"I was merely asking, Draco, no need to snap," Trayton admonished as he drifted alongside his descendant.

"It's been an annoying night," Draco said in way of an apology.

"Oh? How so?"

"There may as well be a lock on that necklace of hers, surrounded by a castle, a moat and eight fire breathing dragons, each one deadlier than the last," Draco hissed, frustration welling again.

Trayton was silent for a moment, before frowning.

"What?" he asked, completely lost.

"That stupid necklace isn't coming off her neck!" Draco elaborated through gritted teeth. "What did she do, _weld_ the chain together?"

"The necklace is stuck?" Trayton asked sharply, coming to an immediate halt.

Draco, surprised, stopped as well. The ghost had a look on his face that was a mixture of terror and fury. It was nothing like Draco had ever seen, or expected, on his ancestor's face.

"Is that bad?" he asked uncertainly.

"Something must be done." Trayton's look darkened and he continued to glide down the corridor at such speed that Draco couldn't have kept up if he had wanted to.

"It's alright, be cryptic, I'm sure nothing bad will come of it!" he called sarcastically after the ghost. "What am I supposed to do now?"

He sulked for a moment before realizing that no one was around to view it. Scowling, he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and stalked down the corridor. It had just gone dinnertime so there were students milling around the corridors. One of these groups included Pansy, who immediately demanded he join in their conversation. With nothing better to do, Draco nodded, only to realize he had no idea what they were talking about. This should prove an interesting test of his bluffing skills.

* * *

The moment Hermione fell asleep, Zella was waiting for her in her dreams.

_Welcome, Hermione, _came a soft voice.

In the same corridor where they always started off, Hermione jumped and looked wildly around. But only Zella stood in front of her, smiling.

"Can you…talk?" Hermione asked her with a confused frown.

Of course a person couldn't talk if their tongue had been cut out, but the voice had been so clear…

Zella's smile became sad for a moment and she shook her head, her blonde hair swaying slightly as she did.

_This is my only method of communication now,_ came Zella's voice again. _I had to wait until our connection was strong enough, but now that it is we can finally talk. _Zella laughed at herself. _Well, I can think at you and you can talk back._

"So you're psychic?" Hermione guessed, still unsure.

_Here, yes, _Zella thought with a nod. _Like I said, the connection we share has grown and your mind is open to my thoughts._

"Is my mind open to you as well then?" Hermione asked, quickly on guard. It wasn't that she didn't trust Zella. For an odd reason, she did. It was just her thoughts were private and, upon occasion, embarrassing.

Zella laughed again, a light and warming sound that seemed affected by her missing tongue only a tad.

_No, don't worry, _she assured. _Although I briefly remember what goes through a teenage girl's mind, so I wouldn't judge._

_Oh, I think you would, _Hermione thought to herself worriedly. _I've been thinking about people I shouldn't be _way _too often now…_

Zella took a few steps forward, drifting over her own body as if it were nothing to her. She held out her transparent hand to Hermione.

_I would like to show you something, _she thought. _Nothing too exciting, I suppose, but…I would like to show you what my life was like._

Hermione hesitated, although she couldn't deny that her interest had been caught. A chance to explore anyone's past was an exciting opportunity but to see how one of her ancestors had lived? It wasn't something that she wanted pass over. Besides, she could always wake herself up if things got dangerous.

"Okay," she said with a nod as she held out her hand to touch Zella's.

To her surprise, Zella's hand felt like flesh as it grasped Hermione's. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, expecting to be whizzed away but instead she just stood there feeling foolish.

_Sorry, no flying today, _Zella thought with a giggle.

"I didn't think we were going to fly," Hermione muttered self-consciously, before thinking how nice it was to hear Zella laugh. In an odd way, she thought of her ancestor as a friend.

_Okay, _Zella thought with a sly nod, letting go of Hermione's hand gently. _I did that to show you our bond. The stronger it gets, the stronger I become in your mind, do you understand? You can hear my thoughts and I'm corporeal. It's actually really impressive._

_And scary, _Hermione silently added, but instead said out loud, "So then, because our bond is powerful, I can see your memories?"

_Exactly, _Zella thought with a smile.

She began to walk down the corridor and as she did, it transformed all around her. Light shone in through the windows and the paintings around them came to life. As Zella's body dissipated, students materialized out of thin air and chattered merrily as they strode past Hermione and Zella, utterly oblivious.

_They can't see us, _Zella thought and Hermione heard her easily above all the noise. _They don't exist, not really. This is only a memory._

She stopped walking and turned back to Hermione with a smile on her face.

_I've not done this before but please don't be scared, there may be a moment of darkness as I reach for the memory but I will be here, _she assured.

Sure enough, Zella closed her eyes and, as though Hermione had closed her own eyes, darkness swallowed the corridor. She didn't move as fear rose up inside of her.

_It's alright, I'm here, _Zella thought soothingly.

Still, panic and confusion reigned for a few seconds until, blissfully, cracks of light began to appear, as though the sun was struggling to shine through a broken window. As soon as it had appeared, it vanished to be replaced with the darkness of night time.

_This is one of my favourite memories, _Zella thought sadly as their surroundings became clearer. _You'll see why as time goes on._

Hermione blinked once, twice, a third time. She and Zella were stood in the beautiful grounds of Hogwarts, although something was different. Time obviously had an effect and Hermione noted with interest trees that were smaller than she was used to. But there was something else. Everything seemed…faded, somehow.

_My memories fade over time, _Zella thought in way of apology, as if reading Hermione's mind. _But I've remembered the important parts. Look, there I am with Fin._

She pointed to two figures strolling casually, apparently deep in conversation. Hermione stepped closer as Zella and her friend stopped and sat down in the long grass.

"Who's Fin?" she asked Zella, slowly walking closer to the pair.

_He was my best friend, _Zella thought with a sad smile. At closer inspection, Hermione found that tears were welling in Zella's eyes. _His full name was Finian, but he hated being called that. So, of course, it was the only thing the Slytherins would address him by. _She laughed and, as she did, a tear slipped down her cheek. _It was considered very inappropriate back then that a girl and a boy would be friends. I don't know why. Then again, it wasn't the most tolerant of times, as we would soon find out._

"My best friends are boys and some people still find it weird," Hermione sighed. "As if I can't just enjoy their company. I have to be in love with one of them." She sighed. "But I ignore the whispers and they go away for the most part."

_I wish it had been like that with me, _Zella sighed.  
She was silent for a long time, watching herself and her friend chat away, unaware of the dangers that they would soon face.

_And here's the important part, _Zella smiled. _Listen._

There was a distant splash from the lake and the Zella sitting beside Fin looked up sharply and clutched her friend's arm. Hermione noted that Fin didn't seem to mind much.

"Did you hear that?" Zella asked frantically, scanning the area with her sapphire eyes. She really was quite beautiful.

"No," Fin assured her, patting her arm. "You're just on edge because we're not supposed to be out here."

Zella's fist dug into the ground around her as she tensed.

"Fin, I swear that there is something out here," she murmured.

"Probably just an animal." There was another, louder splash. "That went for a swim." Boys whooped faintly. "And turned into humans." Fin paused. "Yeah, you're right, there's someone out here."

Zella drew in closer to Fin, who awkwardly rested his chin on the top of her head, clearly misinterpreting her gesture.

"I think you should go and see who it is," Zella suggested, moving her head from under Fin's.

"Why?"

"Because you're a big, strong man?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Alright, it's because I'm scared. Will offering my undying love get me anywhere?"

"Yes."

Zella laughed her light laugh, oblivious that Fin wanted nothing more than what she was offering. But before Fin could stand, the figures of five young men slowly came towards them.

"Bit late for a walk, isn't it?" one of them said.

"We could say the same to you," Zella retorted, no coward despite her earlier words. Fin swiftly stood up after her.

"Maybe, but we're not out for a walk."

Hermione, guided by her curiosity to the side of Fin and Zella, gasped as the boys came closer. Her gasp quickly turned into a shocked giggle as she realized that the group were wearing nothing but cloth towels around their waists.

"Oh my," Zella murmured as she too registered this. She turned her face away slightly but continued to talk in a scathing tone. "You _are_ aware that you've misplaced your clothes, aren't you?"

The group laughed, but not in a way that suggested that they found Zella's comment amusing.

"Not _all _our clothes," one of the group pointed out, managing to swagger although he took only one step forward. "Although that could be arranged."

The boys around him jeered and threw Zella suggestive glances.

"Leave her alone," Fin said in a voice that was scaring no one.

Still, give him his credit, he stepped in front of Zella protectively, not even backing down when the boy who had spoken before took another, much larger, step forward and squared up to him.

"What's up, _Finian_? We moving in on your territory?"

"No, but-"

"Well then I don't see the problem if she's free game."

"I'm not anyone's game!" Zella called indignantly from behind Fin.

There was a splash and then another, smaller, group of boys with the same attire appeared next to their friends.

"What's going on?" one asked amiably. Hermione recognized him from the painting she had seen: Trayton Malfoy.

Trayton scanned the area in front of him and his eyes immediately softened as they locked on Zella. Similarly, Zella's glare subsided as her eyes met his.

_We'd seen each other before of course, having been in the same classes for six years, _Zella's ghost told Hermione, her eyes not leaving the scene that was unfolding before them. _There had always been a connection between us that I can't explain. But we'd never spoken before and it would be another year before we became Head Girl and Head Boy together._

"Nothing much," one of the other boys informed him casually. "Simon might be on the right track to something though."

The other boys laughed and jeered again, all except for Trayton who rolled his discreetly at Zella, who smiled in response.

"We've got better things to do than harass Gryffindors," Trayton pointed out, adopting a new, cold tone of voice in front of his friends. "Let's go find someone _worthwhile_ to hassle."

The others shrugged and nodded their consent. As they turned away, Trayton shot Zella an apologetic look and she responded with a nod, silently assuring him that it was alright. They shared a long look until Fin, oblivious, began to mouth off about how much he hated Slytherins.

"So you and Trayton were intense from day one?" Hermione murmured, watching Trayton's retreating figure and noticing the occasional glances he threw behind at Zella.

_Yes, _Zella's ghost thought as the memory around them faded to be replaced with darkness. _It's something I just can't explain, but I always knew that we were supposed to be together._

"Star-crossed lovers?" Hermione suggested, ignoring the panic that welled again at the darkness.

_Yes, although that didn't end well for Romeo and Juliet, did it? Maybe it's a pattern, some sort of curse. Be called 'star-crossed lovers' and die soon after._

"There goes the nickname I have for my friends then," Hermione joked, her breath catching. It was the only sound in the abyss.

_The next memory occurs a little while on, the next year in fact. It was required of the Head Girl and Head Boy to patrol the corridors sometimes at night, _Zella explained. _Of course, that was wonderful as it meant I got to know Trayton better. It wasn't long before we fell in love._

The next place Hermione recognized was the corridor that they had started the evening in although, of course, there was no body on the floor.

"_You _read Muggle books?" came Zella's voice, drifting down the corridor.

"They're not as pathetic as everyone thinks," Trayton answered, amusement in his deep voice. "In fact, some of them are rather interesting."

"But…there's no magic in them," Zella said, confused. "How can they be interesting?"

Trayton and Zella rounded a corner and into view, their footsteps identical and walking a little slower and closer together than someone usually would. On closer inspection, their fingers were intertwined.

"There's more of a focus on emotions," Trayton told her. "And some Muggles aren't as idiotic as we'd first assume. Some have a frightening perception of humanity and what goes on in our minds."

"Name one," Zella challenged, smiling her bright smile. "Just so I know you aren't making this up to try and impress me."

"I have to try?" Trayton asked in mock-horror. Zella swatted him lightly on his arm and he laughed. "Okay, okay. Let's see…Edgar Allan Poe. His tales are dark but intriguing…much better than a generic love story where everything works itself out in the end."

"I like those stories," Zella said quietly.

"Some of them are alright," Trayton amended quickly. "Although it was frowned upon enough reading any type of Muggle books back home…I didn't want to enrage my father any more by reading novels meant for women."

They reached the end of the corridor and turned off it. Hermione swiftly chased after them to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Well I can't read anything else for fear that I might 'get ideas' which would be _unacceptable_," Zella scoffed. "But perhaps I could read some of Mr. Poe's work sometime?"

"No," was Trayton's short answer.

"Why?" Zella demanded. "Afraid I might get ideas?"

Trayton chuckled. "Unless you have a spare dungeon and a large pendulum on hand, then no, I'm not afraid that you'll get ideas."

"Then why don't you want me reading?" Zella pouted prettily.

"I have nothing against you reading," Trayton told her. "I just don't want you upset by horror stories. Perhaps something by Ms. Austen would be more suitable."

"I don't even know who that is," Zella sighed.

"Then next Christmas I shall get you _Pride and Prejudice_," Trayton promised, squeezing her hand gently.

"Sounds more like something the rest of the school should read," Zella said and instantly the mood changed.

"They'll accept us eventually," Trayton said with such conviction that it was like he was trying to convince himself rather than Zella.

"No. They won't."

"Why not?"

"Because we're in rivalling houses, for a start," Zella began.

The exasperation in her voice told Hermione that this conversation had been had many times before.

"So were Romeo and Juliet," Trayton said, once again referencing literature that Zella didn't know.

"Did they have a happy ending?" Zella asked.

Trayton bit his lip.

"Yes."

_The only lie he ever told me, _Zella's ghost thought, laughing quietly. _I read the play shortly before I died._

"And so will we," Trayton continued, stopping and facing Zella. He lifted his hand and caressed the side of her face lightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you."

"I love you too," Zella answered, her eyes lighting up.

As she and Trayton kissed, Hermione turned to Zella's ghost.

_The first time we said it to each other, _she thought without needing prompting. _I'll remember that night forever._

The scene faded to black again and Zella turned to Hermione.

_You should wake up now, _she thought with her beautiful smile. _Don't want you sleeping your life away, do we?_

Hermione nodded. "Thank you…for showing me this," she said after a moment of hesitation. "I feel like I know you better now."

"I can show you more if you wish," Zella offered. "But not now. Now you should wake up. Return to the land of the living. Goodbye."

Hermione blinked once and when she opened her eyes, she was back in the hospital wing. Managing to feel groggy and wide-awake at the same time, she sat up with a quiet groan. It was daytime, judging by the sun streaming in through the windows.

After being informed by Madam Pomfrey that this was her last day in the hospital wing and being given lunch, Hermione rested her back against the pillows, unsure of what to do now.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, Malfoy entered the room at that moment, flowers clutched in his palm. Hermione stared at him questioningly as he walked up to her bed and threw the flowers into her lap.

"Don't get too excited," he told her in his drawling voice. "I'm only keeping up the pretence that you and I are going out."

Hermione scowled. "And who came up with that ridiculous notion?"

"That would be Madam Pomfrey," Malfoy replied scathingly. "Apparently she's been sampling a little too many hallucinatory potions as of late."

"Watch my fragile state of mind, you might hurt my feelings," Hermione complained mildly, glaring at him.

"I'm only in here to talk to you about your necklace," Malfoy said, shrugging off her comment. "It's a perfectly fresh day outside and I could be there instead of in here with all the sick people but _no_."

"What about the necklace?" Hermione asked, intrigued and completely ignoring the last part of Malfoy's rant.

"It doesn't come off."

"What do you mean it doesn't come off?"

"I mean that it doesn't come off," Malfoy told her, disdain colouring his face. "What else could I possibly mean?"

Hermione wriggled herself a little further upright (hastily pulling her blankets up so that they covered as much of her as possible) and scrabbled at the clasp of the necklace. Sure enough, it stuck fast. Her frown deepening, she scratched at it but to no avail.

"How do you know this anyway?" she demanded to Malfoy after giving up with the necklace.

Malfoy immediately looked sheepish.

"I thought that by removing the necklace your nightmares would go away so I did the kind thing and-"

"Just stop right there," Hermione interrupted with a scowl.

"Not convincing you, hm?" Malfoy sighed and shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, I was tired of fooling around and wanted to deliver the necklace to Trayton. Who, by the way, is definitely _not _happy that the necklace is stuck on you."

"That makes two of us, no way will it go with all of my outfits," Hermione answered. At Malfoy's appalled look, she rolled her eyes. "I was joking." Before Malfoy could make a smart retort, she began to speak again. "I think it's time I met Trayton."

"I don't," Malfoy told her.

"It's important," Hermione protested.

"I don't know if I can trust him," Malfoy said with a shake of his head. "So I'm not about to let him around you."

Hermione was silent for a moment.

"Trying to protect me?" she asked, only half-mockingly.

"Maybe I am," Malfoy answered, to each of their surprise. "So for once, do what you're told."

"Let me put it this way…" Hermione mused. "I'm going to talk to Trayton whether you're there or not. It can't be that hard to track him down, especially if I have something that he wants."

Malfoy glared at her in frustration before throwing up his hands.

"Fine!" he glowered. "Fine, I'll take you to see him tonight. You'll be done lazing around by then, I take it?"

"Yes," Hermione replied happily, too content with her victory to answer Malfoy's sly remark. "Meet me in the Great Hall after dinner?"

"Meet _me _in the library at seven," Malfoy corrected, determined to keep whatever control he had left. "Don't be late."

He turned to leave, not taking the flowers with him as Hermione thought he would. As he left, she arranged them on the table next to her. They brightened up the room…or at least, that was her excuse for keeping them there.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello and Happy New Year! Yay, 2009!**

**Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I've been reading Edgar Allan Poe recently and his was the first name that sprung to mind when I was writing. The 'spare dungeon and large pendulum' that Trayton mentioned referred to my favourite Poe tale, "The Pit and the Pendulum". I'm also listening to "The Poet and the Pendulum" by Nightwish right now, so it seemed a logical choice (:**

**Thanks so much for your reviews, they really made my Christmas.**

**Feel free to share your New Year's Resolutions. Mine is to drink less coffee because I drink an alarming amount while I'm writing…which is pretty much all the time.**

**Have a wonderful year everyone!**

**- Momo**


	10. Casual Acquaintances

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

When Hermione left the hospital wing a few hours later, she made a beeline for the library. She didn't remember much about the night she fainted but she dimly recalled that Malfoy had found a book in the Restricted Section. Chances were, of course, that he still had it, but she wanted to have another sweep of the library just in case.

She was surprised when she headed for her usual table to see Malfoy already sitting there. He glanced up as she approached and gestured for her to take the seat opposite him before going back to the book he was apparently engrossed in.

"Is it seven already?" Hermione frowned, breaking the silence.

"No," Malfoy answered shortly.

"So then why are you here?"

"Why are you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why did he have to be so _frustrating_?

Malfoy flicked his eyes up at her.

"Just sit down, Granger," he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

Hermione complied…grudgingly.

"I've got some things to tell you," she said after it became clear Malfoy wasn't about to strike up a conversation. "I think we've got a suspect about who killed Zella."

Malfoy looked up at her again, a hard expression on his face.

"If you even suggest that Trayton-"

"No, not him," Hermione interrupted impatiently. "This is going to sound odd, even by recent standards, but I got a look at Zella's memories the last time I was asleep."

Malfoy finally put the book down and stared at her with unnerving intensity.

"I got a look - not to mention a running commentary - at a couple of the times that Zella and Trayton were together. The first memory had Zella's best friend in it-"

"Finian, right?" Malfoy cut across.

"Fin," Hermione corrected. "And how did you know?"

"Trayton told me," Malfoy answered with a shrug.

Hermione sighed. "This 'trusting you enough to tell you important information' thing works both ways, you know."

"Right, I'll tell you next time," he promised.

"Sure," Hermione answered, unconvinced. "Anyway, Fin was in love with Zella big time. I don't think she could tell but it was really obvious from an outsider's perspective."

"So you think he killed her because she didn't love him?"

"Maybe," Hermione answered with a shrug.

"But then wouldn't he kill Trayton so that Zella was free for him?" Malfoy pointed out.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "Killing seems a little too extreme, a little too psychotic…"

"A little too Slytherin?" Malfoy suggested.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "No offence or anything."

Malfoy shrugged. He had encountered worse insults.

"Is that the book you took out the night I fainted?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"You remember that?"

"That and not much else," Hermione said with a nod. She bit her lip uncomfortably. "I don't know if I thanked you for taking me to the hospital wing."

"You did," Malfoy assured her uncomfortably. "Although you were sort of out of it when you said it. I suppose the sleeping potion had made you woozy."

Panic shot through Hermione.

"Did I say anything else?" she asked quickly.

Who knows what type of things she could've said whilst under the influence of a potion? Embarrassing, private things. Oh, Merlin…

"Not really," Malfoy said slowly, frowning. Probably at her horror-struck expression, but who knew with him? "You called me by my first name, which was new."

"Oh," Hermione said, her expression lightening. "Well, that's not too bad."

"What's wrong, afraid some deep, dark secret would come out?" Malfoy asked, raising his pale eyebrows at her.

"No," Hermione scoff. "But I've seen intoxicated people before. Their input to conversations are generally 'I love you'."

"I wish you would've said that, it would've been gold for blackmailing you with later on."

Hermione found herself laughing slightly before forcing her face to keep itself straight. When she looked back up, Malfoy was frowning at her again.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You can laugh, you know," he told her, his eyes not leaving hers. "Just because you hate me doesn't mean you can't have a laugh with me."

"I don't hate you," Hermione said before she could stop herself. At Malfoy's look, she frowned. "I don't!" she insisted. "Harry and Ron hate you. I'm just there in the background, quietly disliking you."

"Good to know," Malfoy commented dryly.

"You know what I mean," Hermione said with a small smile. "I don't hate you. I could even start regarding you as a casual acquaintance if you stopped being such a prat."

"A casual acquaintance?" Malfoy repeated. "I think you're going a little fast there, Granger." He allowed himself a small smile. "Alright, casual acquaintance it is."

"You're prepared to give up being a prat to be my casual acquaintance?"

"I forgot that part…okay, deal's off."

Hermione laughed until the uneasy thought that she was laughing with Draco Malfoy hit her again. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"So is Trayton going to show up, do you think?" she asked, busying herself with something in her bag.

"He should do," Malfoy answered with a nod. "I can't exactly call him like a dog but he's generally around anyway. It's just a matter of waiting."

_Great, _Hermione thought, putting her bag back on the floor. _Waiting._

"So do you feel alright now?" Malfoy asked after managing less than thirty seconds of silence. His tone, as though he too realized that he was being friendly, turned scornful. "You should do, you've spent the past couple of days asleep."

"I feel fine now," Hermione answered, oddly glad of the familiar ice in Malfoy's voice. The two of them being anything other than enemies didn't make sense to her just yet. "I also had kind of a theory as to why I fainted."

"Other than exhaustion?"

"Well, yes, obviously," Hermione replied scathingly. "But I mean why I fainted at midnight. It didn't strike me until recently but ever since I've been dreaming about Zella, I've been waking up at midnight. Then I fainted at midnight. It's always dark in my dreams and I'm willing to bet that Zella was killed at midnight."

"Recurring theme of midnight," Malfoy mused, leaning back in his chair contemplatively. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, furrowing her brow in concentration. "I'm thinking that maybe she was killed as part of a ritual? I mean, there are loads of magical ways that someone could've killed Zella and yet they chose to stab her? It seems more than a little odd to me. Plus she had her tongue cut out. We can't forget about that."

Malfoy nodded slowly, continuing to lean back.

"You'll fall," Hermione warned him absently.

"Sorry, Mother," Malfoy answered with a roll of his eyes. Still, he set the chair back on all four legs. He drummed his fingers on the table and sighed loudly. "I'm going to find Trayton."

"Patience is a virtue," Hermione reminded him as he got up and began to walk away.

Malfoy stopped walking and turned to her with a smile that caused her chest to constrict ever so slightly.

"Of which I have none," he said, before leaving the library.

Hermione was glad he left as she had no witty response to that. Or any response at all, actually. She began to chew on her lip as she considered the implications of being casual acquaintances with Malfoy. Or Draco. Did casual acquaintances address each other by forenames or surnames? It was something she'd have to look into. She couldn't help thinking that feeling anything other than animosity to him would be dangerous. After all, look at what had happened to Zella and Trayton.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

Hermione jumped and snapped her head around. The ghost of Trayton Malfoy stood behind her, a mournful expression on his face.

"A-afternoon," Hermione answered, choosing to wait until her heart had stopped hammering to say anything else. "You just missed Malfoy. Uh, Draco."

"I know," Trayton answered. "I came to talk to you."

As he hovered around the table and stopped just behind his vacated descendant's seat, Hermione considered how much he had changed. He looked a little older but still retained some of the good looks that he had when he was alive. His voice had adopted a haunted tone (oh, the irony) that matched his joyless eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" Trayton asked, his eyes almost staring through her.

"Yes," Hermione answered uneasily.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"Not really," Hermione said, glad that her necklace was safely underneath her top and out of view. "But I know about you and Zella."

"What do you know?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as though he was trying to get a better view of her.

"That you were a couple," Hermione started until Trayton cut her off with a bitter laugh.

"We were so much more than that," he spat.

Hermione didn't know if he was angry at her or just angry in general so she kept silent.

"Anything else?" Trayton prompted.

"That she was killed by someone," Hermione continued hesitantly. "That the whole school was against your relationship."

"And what about the necklace that you're wearing right now?" Trayton asked coolly.

"It…it used to be Zella's," Hermione whispered, frightened.

"Yes," Trayton nodded coldly. "It did."

He managed to be threatening and sinister without saying more than a sentence or two. Hermione wondered what he could do with some actual power behind him.

"Draco tells me that you wouldn't willingly give up the necklace and now it's grafted itself onto your skin?" Trayton asked lightly, as though he were talking about the weather.

"I don't know if grafted is the right word-"

"But it won't come off?"

"Well, no. Maybe the clasp is broken or-"

"So what you're telling me is that the one thing keeping me tied to this plane of existence is locked inside a necklace which I can't access because it's fastened around your neck and won't come off," Trayton summarised, not sounding too happy about it. "Did you put a spell on it?"

"I haven't touched it with magic," Hermione promised. "Except to check if there was any dark magic on it."

"You think I would give the love of my life - and death - a cursed necklace?" Trayton accused, his eyes narrowing.

"No!" Hermione answered frantically. "I didn't know anything about you or Zella or anything when I first got the necklace!"

Trayton glared at her for a moment longer before blinking, sighing and cradling his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said, his miserable voice muffled. "I just didn't think it would be this difficult. Zella's soul is trapped in what is for all I know _hell_ and I can't save her."

"She isn't in hell," Hermione ventured. "I think she's just in limbo, reliving her memories over and over in my dreams."

"You see her in your dreams," Trayton murmured, lifting his head and looking at her again, his eyes filled with pain. "What I wouldn't give for that blessing."

"I don't know if it's any comfort," Hermione began tentatively, "but she still thinks about you. Still loves you. Even in death."

"Does she speak of me?" Trayton asked, his eyes daring to hope.

The image of Zella's bloodied, tongue-less mouth flashed in Hermione's mind and she wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sure she would if she could," Hermione comforted. "But, um, she can't. Her tongue was…"

"Cut out," Trayton finished desolately and he looked like he was about to cry. "Of course." He shuddered. "I sometimes wish I hadn't been the one to find her. I tried to stem the blood from her wound but by then she was already dead. The blood never quite came off my hands." He clenched his jaw. "I had hoped that she would be at peace, wherever she was, but if she's sustained the injuries that caused her death then how can she be anywhere but hell?"

He was becoming angry again and Hermione tried to think of something to say to calm him down.

"I don't think she's in pain," she offered. "She can project her thoughts and memories at me and not once has she suggested that the wounds hurt her."

Trayton nodded slowly although Hermione didn't know if he was comforted.

"What memories has she shown you?" he asked.

"Only two," Hermione answered. "Both with you in them. The first was the time you went for a…night time swim with no clothes on with your friends."

Trayton's face broke into a smile.

"I remember that night," he said with a laugh. "She was so brave in front of the Sons. Not like that idiot friend of hers."

"Fin," Hermione supplied. "Did you know that was…?"

"Infatuated with her?" Trayton finished distastefully. "Yes. It was obvious to everyone but Zella." His expression changed again and he smiled sadly. "My girl always saw the best in people." He sighed and looked at Hermione. "The same as you, evidently."

"Everyone has good inside of them," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's just a matter of looking."

"Hermione, that's a childish and naïve way of looking at the world."

Hermione, startled, frowned at him and struggled for words to express her incredulousness.

"I didn't mean offence," Trayton said quickly, seeing her expression. "I just meant that Zella saw the good in everyone and one of those people ended up…" his expression became pained as he tried to choose the right word, " _mutilating_ her."

"But there were other factors at work there," Hermione argued, her logical side shining through.

"But still, if she had been less trusting then maybe things would've turned out different," Trayton pointed out. "I don't know you properly but you're Zella's family and I don't want you to come to any harm. There are some people in this school that you cannot trust."

At this point, the latest generation of Malfoys turned the corners made of bookcases and headed for the table, pausing only when he saw Trayton raised his transparent eyebrows and threw a pointed look at Hermione.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, annoyed that he had been searching for someone who was here all along and perplexed at the look that Hermione was giving him.

"Just chatting," Trayton said carelessly. "It turns out that Hermione here shares some traits with Zella."

Both the Malfoys turned their gazes on Hermione who was frowning slightly at the table beneath her.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked her, confused both at her expression and why he cared.

"I should go," she said suddenly without looking at him. "I need to tell Harry and Ron I'm out of the hospital wing."

As she picked up her bag and stood up quickly, Draco turned his glare onto Trayton. What exactly had he said that had freaked out Hermione so much?

"I'll see you later?" he asked as the girl slung her bag over her shoulder and made to leave as soon as Draco stepped out of her way.

"Maybe tomorrow," she said, flustered and still not looking at him. "I have homework to catch up on."

"Alright," Draco said slowly, stepping out of her way. The moment she had gone, he turned angrily to Trayton. "What did you say to her?"

"We were discussing Zella's death and it must have upset her," Trayton answered with a shrug. "You know how temperamental teenage girls are."

"That's all you said, nothing else?" Draco asked disbelievingly.

"Well, I was talking about trust," Trayton remembered slowly. "Maybe that got her thinking about you. The two of you seem rather intimate…meeting up in hidden corners of the library, discussing a matter than no one else knows about."

"We're not _intimate_," Draco snarled. "Hermione and I are casual acquaintances."

Trayton couldn't hold in a laugh.

"Casual acquaintances?" he repeated. "Right. When I first met you, you couldn't stand the girl. Now you're using her first name and actually showing concern when she appears upset."

"That doesn't mean anything," Draco hissed. "And maybe I'm doing all of those things to help you, like you asked me to."

"But you already know that you can't get the necklace," Trayton pointed out, raising his eyebrows again. "So why are you continuing with this girl?"

"It's a way to pass the time," Draco answered defensively. He knew that if he thought in-depth about why he wanted to spend time with Hermione Granger then his world would implode. "Don't you have someone else to haunt? I hear that the Bloody Baron is looking for a chess partner."

Trayton shrugged and drifted away, leaving a troubled Draco behind with his thoughts.

* * *

_What's wrong, Hermione? _Zella thought later on that night, glancing sadly at Hermione.

They were in another memory of hers, walking slowly behind the memories of Zella and Trayton who whispered and giggled to one another on another of their night time patrols.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, tearing her eyes away from her feet to glance at Zella.

_You can tell me things, you know,_ Zella thought, smiling.

Hermione sighed. Admitting what was troubling her out loud would make it real.

_Is it a boy? _Zella guessed, correctly.

"Yes," Hermione admitted as they turned another dark corner. "He's arrogant and funny and intelligent and a complete prick at times."

_That sounds like a Malfoy, _Zella thought, laughing as her eyes softened at the mention of her beloved's family name.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly.

Zella stopped walking.

_It's a Malfoy? _she asked, confused.

"The latest in a long line of arrogant, funny, intelligent ones by the sound of it," Hermione nodded, waiting for Zella to begin walking again.

_Must be a descendant of Trayton's cousin_, Zella mused and began following her past again.

Hermione rather doubted this but didn't want to hurt Zella's feelings by yanking her out of denial. It was after all a nice, comforting place to be.

_So what's wrong with liking him? _Zella thought after a moment of silence.

"Everything," Hermione answered, flustered.

_Everything? _Zella repeated. _My, you _did _choose the wrong boy._

Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"You know what I mean," she said. "He's just wrong for me on so many different levels. Plus he's only with me all the time because he wants my necklace. Your necklace."

_If he's looking for jewellery then I think you may be barking up the wrong tree, _Zella warned, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Nineteenth century girls aren't supposed to know about those types of things," Hermione admonished with a grin. "Anyway, I'm firmly up the right tree." She paused and frowned. "No, I'm not up any tree! All the trees in this forest have been chopped down."

_So why are you so worried all of a sudden? _Zella inquired.

"It's just something that Trayton said," Hermione shrugged.

_Trayton? _Zella asked, stopping again and confusion and pain etching themselves onto her face. _You've spoken to Trayton?_

"I could've sworn I told you…" Hermione started, but with a horrified jolt realized that she had said nothing of the sort. "Uh, yeah. Trayton's ghost wants the necklace to try and bring you out of limbo so you can be together only now the necklace is kind of attached to me and won't let go and I would've told you this before only you didn't speak so I didn't think I'd get a response and I'm rambling and you're looking hurt so I'll stop."

She watched the ghost anxiously but Zella could only stare after the memory of her lover and tremble.

Hermione was about to say something else when the world around her went black and before she knew it, she was awake again.

_Zella must be really mad, _she thought anxiously, sighing as she considered how badly she had messed up this time.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello there!**

**I would've made this chapter longer to include another Draco/Hermione scene, but that'll have to be next chapter now. I've actually become rather addicted to Facebook and, after spending almost all day on it, I'm now pretty tired.**

**Hope you all enjoyed and thanks for your reviews! :D**

**You may be disappointed to know that I broke my 'no coffee' resolution already, but it was an actual emergency. At least, the first time was.**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**


	11. You'll Be Begging Me To

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"…Which is why the legend of the Fountain of Youth is largely inaccurate," Snape concluded in a droning voice that Hermione could've sworn hadn't changed pitch at all in the last hour.

Hating these rare yet mind-numbingly boring theory lessons, she had given up on taking notes long ago and had instead settled for worrying about what she was supposed to do about the two Malfoys and Zella.

"Well, yeah, _I _could've told you that," Ron muttered lowly, causing Harry and Hermione to splutter slightly as they tried not to laugh.

They quickly looked innocently away as Snape gave them a dark look. Hermione tried to conceal her smile, grateful that she had friends like Harry and Ron to remind her that life wasn't always doom and gloom.

"To make sure you've all been listening, your homework is to write one thousand words on exactly _why _the legend of the Fountain of Youth is inaccurate. For next lesson."

The groans from the class grew louder at this last sentence. Their next lesson was just three days away.

They were dismissed a few moments later, with most of the class still grumbling. Draco, still irritated from the previous night with Trayton, pushed past everyone else impatiently. When he became level with Potter, Weasley and Hermione (_Granger, keep calling her Granger!_) he slowed down to let them pass.

"Finally learnt some manners, have we, Malfoy?" Weasley taunted at him.

"I was being charitable and letting you get a head start on your essay," Draco answered back, his eyes narrowing. "You'll need all the help you can get if your memory is half as bad as your Potions ability."

Alright, so it wasn't the best comeback he'd ever thought of but he found himself distracted by Hermione (_Granger, dammit!_) and her refusal to look at him.

"Ron, leave it, let's just go," Hermio - _Granger _- murmured, resting her hand on Ron's arm and glancing up at him.

Was there something going on with the two of them? No, Draco would've known. Still, he'd always figured Granger for a girl with a hero fetish, making Potter the obvious choice and himself the exact opposite of what she wanted. Not that it mattered. At all.

"Better do as your girlfriend says, Weasley, wouldn't want you playing with the big boys and getting hurt," Draco found himself snapping.

Hermione shot him a dark look, tinged with surprise and confusion.

"Ron, Harry, let's go," she said tensely, never taking her eyes off Draco's. "Leave the _big boys _to their children's games."

The students that had watched the scene unfold quickly flicked their gazes to Draco to see what he would respond with. When he said nothing more than "Trayton sends his best" they were left disappointed and more than a little puzzled.

* * *

"I hate Malfoy. I really do. He's the type of person who deserves to be hit repeatedly in the face with a brick."

"What did he mean 'Trayton sends his best'?" Harry asked Hermione, cutting into Ron's tirade of abuse as they made their way to the Gryffindor tower.

"Maybe he's reminding me that, as much as we can't stand each other, we still have a responsibility to our ancestors," Hermione suggested with a sigh. "As if I would just abandon Zella."

"And Trayton," Harry prompted, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Eh," Hermione replied, unconcerned.

"You don't like Trayton anymore?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Took you long enough," Ron grumbled.

"I like the Trayton in Zella's memories," Hermione explained, ignoring Ron. "But the Trayton now is so different."

"Not trying to defend him but the poor bloke lost everything," Ron reminded her, showing his rare insightfulness. "And now that he knows you won't give him the necklace, he's bound to be a bit mad."

"It isn't quite as simple as that," Hermione said, biting her lip. "The necklace…it won't come off."

"What?" Ron asked sharply, coming to a stop. "What do you mean it won't come off?"

Hermione remembered that those were almost her exact words when Malfoy had first told her about the necklace being stuck. Hopefully she hadn't sounded as stupid when she'd asked it.

"I mean that it's stuck around my neck," Hermione explained, trying her best to be patient, "and won't come off. So Trayton's angry at me for that, as if I actually _want_ to go around wearing it for the rest of my life." She tugged at the jewellery contemptuously.

"Things with you and Malfoy seemed tense as well," Harry pointed out.

"The way it should be," Ron interjected with an approving nod.

"What I mean is, I thought you were trying to be civil?" Harry rephrased.

"Apparently no one told him that," Hermione answered with a shrug, although the same thing had been bothering her slightly. "Or maybe he doesn't want to degrade himself by being nice to the likes of me in public."

"How can he possibly degrade himself any further?" Harry asked darkly as they reached the entrance to the common room. "Ravenwing," he added to the merry woman whose large frame took up most of the portrait.

"Indeed," the Fat Lady said with a tipsy smile and swung open to allow them access.

"Enough about Malfoy," Ron decided, striding forward to claim his favourite chair. "We should start on our essays for Snape. By which I mean Hermione tells us what to write and we write it."

"That's what you always mean," Hermione answered shrewdly as she and Harry took their own seats.

"It's because we love you," Ron assured.

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Neither does this essay, so get talking lady!"

Ron's smile told Hermione that he was kidding, but she gave an over-exaggerated sigh and began to speak anyway.

"The legend of the Fountain of Youth is largely inaccurate because…"

* * *

Having no lessons in the afternoon, the next day was one of peace and tranquillity for Hermione.

That was, until, Draco Malfoy approached her in the library.

"How is it you always know where I am?" Hermione sighed when he stopped beside her.

"Because you're always in the same place," he answered, glancing pointedly at the table next to him.

"I'm a creature of habit, don't use it against me."

"Only if you help me with the Potions essay," he said, and sat down opposite her.

"Like Snape will care if you don't do it," Hermione scowled. "You could write an essay on how unicorns will one day rule us all and still get the highest grade in the class."

"He would care, and don't mock our unicorn overlords."

Hermione laughed. She couldn't help it. Draco Malfoy was, to her continued complete and utter surprise, a funny person. She found that, the more she spoke to him, her reasons for being angry with him faded.

"But I'm still not helping you," she said when she had recovered. "I'm already helping Harry and Ron and if there are four essays that read the exact same way then it'll look more than a little suspicious."

Malfoy sighed and shook his head.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"You've just given me something to blackmail you with," he told her. "Now I can say that if you don't give me help with the essay, I'll tell Snape you let Potter and Weasley copy you." Hermione opened her mouth but he cut her off. "You know that I would. You should never tell anyone anything that could later be used against you."

"Anything can be used against you," Hermione frowned. "You just need to learn who can be trusted not to."

"So do you trust me?"

The question was unexpected but Hermione supposed that the topic had been leading there anyway. She didn't know what to say for a moment, so just looked at him. He stared back coolly, one pale eyebrow raised challengingly.

"It…it isn't that simple-"

"Yes it is. It's a yes or no answer."

"But there are different factors-"

"No," he interrupted heatedly. "No factors, no thoughts, nothing." He leant forward and looked at her. "Do you trust me?"

As much as she tried to hold his gaze, Hermione looked away.

"Well," Malfoy said and Hermione caught the disappointment in his voice. "That's it then."

He got up to leave.

"I trust you with some things," Hermione told him, unable to watch him just walk off. "Like the Zella/Trayton situation. I trust you with that. That's a start, right?"

He nodded slowly and sat back down.

"I don't trust you at all, just do you know," he told her mock-seriously, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust is a fragile thing, kind of like a flower. If the apocalypse arrived and killed off everyone except us, I'd trust the remains of their charred and mangled bodies before even I considered you."

"That was somewhere between poetic and deeply disturbing."

"I'm a Slytherin, I work with what I have."

They smiled at each other briefly before turning to rummage around in their bags, feeling awkward.

"So," Hermione said with a clear of her throat. "The Fountain of Youth is-"

"I know what to write in the essay, don't worry about it," Malfoy cut her off with a smile.

"No, no," Hermione insisted with a smile of her own, "I chose to trust you with secrets about my cheating friends and I'll just have to live with the consequences."

"If I can be trusted with such deep, dark secrets then it's the least I can do not to tell anyone," Malfoy shrugged. "Besides, it'd be kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. Snape has fun picking out exactly where Potter's gone wrong. Sometimes it's so obscure it's unbelievable. Telling him that his victim did something wrong would take all the fun out of it for him."

"Why people hate you is beyond me," Hermione murmured sarcastically over the scratching of her quill.

"Jealously," Malfoy answered simply.

"Because it couldn't be anything else?"

"Exactly," Malfoy nodded. "See, you're beginning to understand the way I think."

"A benefit of being a casual acquaintance I assume?" Hermione asked wryly without looking up.

"One of many. Although I'm yet to understand you."

"I'm not too complex," Hermione disagreed, finally setting down her quill and looking up.

"You are," Malfoy argued. "I can't tell where I stand with you."

"When I frown it means I'm sad. When I smile it means I'm happy. See, not complex at all."

"What about when you do that thing with your eyebrow?" Malfoy challenged, raising his own eyebrows.

"I do a thing with my eyebrow?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"You do," Malfoy confirmed. "You also chew on your lip sometimes which, I've got to tell you, is _really _annoying."

Hermione deliberately began to nibble her bottom lip, barely able to conceal a grin, and turned back to her essay.

"Mature," Malfoy muttered. "Really mature, Hermione."

Hermione paused in her writing and looked up. Malfoy obviously didn't realize he had said anything out of the ordinary until he glanced at her to see her staring at him.

"What?" he asked, unconcerned.

"You called me by my first name."

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing," Hermione shrugged. "It just sounds…weird."

"I can go back to insulting your bloodline if you want," he suggested with an amused smirk.

"Fine, I'll start calling you Ferret," Hermione retaliated, crossing her arms in a satisfied way.

"Have you ever actually called me that?" Malfoy (or should she be calling him Draco now?) asked with a frown.

"Not to your face," Hermione smiled sweetly. "I'm a girl, I do all my fighting behind people's backs."

"That sounds suspiciously Slytherin," Malfoy/Draco commented (_seriously, did he expect her to call him by his first name now or…?_).

"Oh what, like Gryffindors have to kind and virtuous all the time?" Hermione scoffed. "Come on, Draco."

There, she tried it. She called her one-time enemy by his first name and the world hadn't imploded. Although unlike her, Draco didn't comment on it.

"I could say the same about Slytherins," he argued, serious now. "We're not all the epitome of evil."

"Let me guess, you have hidden depths?" Hermione asked, smiling. When Draco said nothing, she frowned. "You can't leave it like that, now I want to know!"

"Forget it," Draco muttered irritably, going back to his essay and leaving Hermione confused.

"I didn't mean to insult you," she said carefully, completely bewildered as to if this was what she had actually done.

"You didn't." But he didn't look up or talk anymore after that.

_And I thought _I _was temperamental, _she thought with a sigh.

"What are you sighing for?" Draco asked her, still annoyed for reasons she didn't know.

"I wasn't sighing, I was breathing," she lied. "What's up with you all of a sudden?"

"I'm not used to talking to people like that, especially not you," he said by way of explanation. He appeared focused on his essay but his grip on his quill was too tight to be casual.

"Talking like what?" Hermione asked, beginning to feel frustrated. "We were just chatting."

"Exactly."

Hermione glared at his head, willing him to look up and answer her properly. When he didn't, she narrowed her eyes and gathered up her belongings in her arms.

"Granger, where are you going?" he asked, sounding like his old, exasperated self.

"I'm not wasting my free afternoon trying to decipher you," she told him with a scowl. "It's pointless and I won't get anywhere and if I don't leave now then I may say something that I regret."

"Like what?" he challenged, finally setting his quill down and watching her with amused eyes.

"Like telling you what I really think of you," she threatened.

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

"What?"

"Go for it, tell me what you think of me," he repeated, a wave of his hand serving as an invitation.

"Well, I…" Hermione began, flustered now that she had to think of something on the spot. "You're arrogant."

"Yes," he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What else?"

"Yeah, but you're _really _arrogant and I think it deserves to be mentioned more than once. You think you're better than people because of your blood status when in fact you're not, you're unnecessarily harsh," Hermione was on a roll now, "you have this 'holier than thou' attitude whenever you get around people, you smirk way too much and," she finished triumphantly, "you have odd hair."

Draco, apparently unable to stop himself, grinned.

"I happen to like my hair," he told her.

"I didn't say that I don't like it, I just said that it's unnaturally coloured."

"Anything else?" he prompted.

Hermione paused, certain that there was more. There _should _be more. A few weeks ago she would've been able to think of thousands of things she didn't like about him.

"Can't think of anything, can you?" he asked smugly.

"Give me time," she warned.

"So are you going to sit back down or do you just want to stand there all day?" Draco asked, turning back to his essay.

"Will you answer my question?" Hermione asked in turn.

Draco's light mood vanished almost instantly and Hermione nodded to herself. If he didn't want to talk about it, fair enough. She set her things back down on the table.

"You don't have to," she assured him quietly. "But you can if you want. After all," she added with a shaky laugh, "we're on first-name terms now."

_As if that matters. Merlin, I'm an idiot._

Draco was silent for a long time. Then,

"It would be easier if you kept your misconceptions about me," he said slowly. "I don't like talking about my thoughts or my feelings or any…hidden depths, as you put it. I was brought up to recognise that telling people these things can only get you hurt."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, in a way, although (and not for the first time since she had met him all those years ago) she found herself wondering what kind of environment Draco had grown up in.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me or anything," Hermione started, before she cut was cut off by a derisive laugh.

"As if you could," Draco smirked.

"I could," Hermione assured him confidently. "A few well-placed curses and you'd be begging me to listen to all your secrets."

"I'll take you up on that challenge one day," Draco said with a smile that unnerved her. "Until then, let's try and keep it civil, shall we?"

"I think we can do better than that," Hermione said with a cautious smile.

It was her offering of friendship. Not a casual acquaintanceship but real friendship and all that entailed.

"Alright," Draco said with a nod and his own ill-concealed smile. "But I won't have to go around solving mysteries with you, Potter and Weasley do I?"

"Only if it requires bringing along a sarcastic and unhelpful Slytherin," Hermione answered back quickly.

"I can be helpful," Draco protested.

"When there's something in it for you."

"Well, yeah, obviously."

They continued like this until well after both of their essays were completed and the sun had begun to set outside the library windows.

"I should get back to the common room," Hermione said apologetically. "Drop off my things and then go down to dinner with Harry and Ron. They tend to get cranky if they're not fed."

"I can imagine," Draco answered wryly. "I'm due a talk with Trayton anyway. He likes turning up unannounced but I think I'm starting to spot his haunting patterns."

Hermione laughed before stopping and gasping.

"I can't believe I didn't tell you!" she said loudly, before checking her tone and quieting down a little. "Zella's really angry at me. I thought I'd told her about Trayton's ghost but it turns out I hadn't."

"How could you not tell her something like that?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I don't know, I was distracted!" Hermione sighed. "But we were talking about you and of course that led on to Trayton and-"

"Why?"

"Well, because he's your ancestor."

"No," Draco said with a shake of his head and a confused expression. "I mean, why were you talking about me?"

Hermione held his gaze and there was something about his eyes that made her want to tell him the truth. But then she faltered and looked away.

"We were talking about daft hair and you came up," she improvised poorly.

"Uh huh," Draco replied, entirely unconvinced. "And the real reason was?"

"That is the real reason," Hermione insisted.

Draco sighed. "This is me you're talking to, Hermione. I know when people are lying." A sudden malicious grin appeared on his lips. "You know, I'm not going to force you to tell me, or anything but," he leant in and Hermione found she couldn't look away, "a few well-placed curses and you'd be begging me to listen to the real reason."

There was something about his voice, his eyes, his proximity that made think that the curses wouldn't be necessary, she'd tell him anything. Did he know he was doing it? Making the words sound somewhat sensual? He was just repeating her earlier words, she knew that, and yet…

_Snap out of it, _she told herself sternly but her eyes didn't leave his until he laughed and leant back, clearly unaware of the effect he had just had on her.

"I have to go to dinner now," she said with a smile, standing up and beginning to walk away. She turned back with a smile fixed into place. "Forgot my stuff," she added with a laugh, gathering up her things hastily. _Kill me, just kill me. _"I'll see you later."

"Bye," a bemused Draco replied, watching her go with a smile.

Once she was out of sight, he sighed heavily and allowed his head to fall on the table with an audible thump. What was he doing? Spending literally hours talking to someone who he was supposed to look down on, to hate. He should only have been with her for the eventual knowledge on the Sons of Slytherin, he knew that. So why was he laughing at her jokes, enjoying their arguments and thinking about her when she wasn't around?

"Draco?"

Trayton's worried voice distracted him from his own troubles, and he raised his head sharply.

"What is it?" he asked so quickly that it almost came out as a snap. "Is it about the necklace?"

Trayton's eyes were wide and filled with a mix of horror and sorrow as they stared down at the ground. His shoulders were slumped and, all in all, he looked terrible, even by ghost standards.

"Th…there's something that I need to tell you…" he whispered brokenly and Draco's heart, which had been momentarily filled with warmth and hope, sank.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello everyone, sorry about the cliff-hanger. For those of you who read my previous story 'Sanctuary', you'll remember how much I enjoy cliff-hangers (:**

**Hope that you all enjoyed, thank you so much for your reviews. You may be relieved to know that this plot **_**is**_** actually going somewhere :P I was lying in bed at 2.30am this morning, thinking 'screw this, I'm taking the day off Sixth Form' when I figured that I could advance the plot sooner rather than later.**

**Hope you all have a great week! (:**

**- Momo**


	12. By The Light Of The Moon

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**A/N:**

**At the end of this chapter it's revealed who killed Zella but the scene is kind of disturbing, even by my standards. Just a warning.**

**I listened to 'Seven Sirens and a Silver Tear' by Sirenia whilst writing the end scene, so feel free to check that out if you listen to music whilst reading (:**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

With winter soon upon them, the students found themselves confined to their common rooms even more, not daring to brave the freezing temperatures outside.

"Seriously, what's up with the weather?" Ron complained one night as he glared out of the window at the delicately falling snowflakes, the first of the season.

"It's called snow, Ron," Hermione answered irritably, huddled up in the chair closest to the fire. "It happens in stupidly cold countries like this one."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"I'll ask," Harry offered and Ron nodded gratefully. He turned to Hermione. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? It sort of seems like-"

"Time of the month."

"Oh."

As close as the three of them were, Hermione knew that Harry and Ron always got more than a little freaked out whenever Hermione mentioned anything remotely girly. She only played the 'time of the month' card when she had to, and unfortunately now was one of those times.

Something drastic had changed in the four days since she and Draco had talked in the library. Whenever she smiled at him, he looked away. Whenever she made to talk to him, he quickly made his excuses and left. At first she thought he was just careful not to make sure that people knew they were friends. After all, Zella and Trayton had made their relationship public and paid the price. Of course that had been two centuries ago but Hermione refused to entertain the notion that Draco was avoiding her. That was until she waited in the library for him from the end of dinner until the library shut for two days in a row now and each day he hadn't turned up. That night, humiliated, angry and more than a little perplexed, she had stomped back to the Gryffindor common room.

"Been with Malfoy again?" Harry had asked, trying his best to sound neutral although the hard undertone couldn't be denied.

Hermione had scowled and taken refuge on the chair she currently sat in. She didn't speak for the rest of the evening and when she woke up the next morning after another Zella-free night, she was in a darker mood than ever.

"Cheer up," Ron told her at breakfast, narrowly avoiding splashing himself with milk as he mixed his porridge. "You're free of Zella _and_ Malfoy, it's like Christmas come early!"

How could Hermione explain that she didn't want to be 'free' of either of them? Zella, her friends might understand. But Draco? Never.

"Wonder if Snape's marked those essays yet?" Harry asked, oblivious to Hermione's discomfort.

"If we all get different grades then I'm complaining to Dumbledore, seriously," Run grumbled.

"Good luck telling him why we should've all gotten the same grade," Harry laughed. "As far as I know, copying someone else's essay is still against the rules."

"Yeah, well," Ron said, shaking off the statement with a wave of his hand and abruptly changing the topic. "What do you lot want for Christmas?"

"That's ages off yet," Harry complained.

"Yeah but snow always gets me in a festive mood."

At this, the boys glanced out of the large windows at the snow strewn grounds. Hermione's attention however was fixed upon a certain platinum haired Slytherin who had just entered the hall, surrounded by his peers as always. Draco didn't glance her way, just as Hermione had expected. Still, her heart sank a little. She turned her focus back to the conversation at hand.

"…Basically commanded me to invite you both to the Burrow for the holidays," Ron was saying with a roll of his eyes. "As if I'd forget!"

"You can be rather forgetful at times," Hermione reminded him, trying to lose herself in chatter. "Like that time you came down for breakfast in your slippers."

"I've never laughed so much in my life," Harry said, grinning at the memory as Ron flushed.

"You and everyone else," he muttered. "Damn Slytherins wouldn't let it drop for three weeks!"

"Neither did we," Hermione told him, buttering her toast evenly.

"Yeah, but you're allowed," Ron shrugged before grimacing. "This porridge is disgusting. What did they use, elf milk?"

"Elves make milk?" Harry asked, both interested and relieved that he chose scrambled eggs on toast today.

"Of course they don't," Hermione snapped. "Maybe the milk's off or something."

"Maybe it was Peeves?" Harry suggested. "Or, hey, maybe it was Trayton! He seems pretty angry from what you've told us."

"Trayton isn't a poltergeist," Hermione said sadly, thinking for a moment that she'd have an excuse to talk to Draco. "He's just a pain."

They ate the rest of breakfast in idle chatter before it was time for Potions. Hermione spotted Draco and his friends getting up to leave and hastily made her excuses to Harry and Ron. She left breakfast and followed a careful distance behind Draco and his group as they headed down to the dungeons. When Draco began to lag behind the others, Hermione took her chance.  
"Dra…Malfoy!" she called, quickly correcting herself in public.

Draco turned around at the sound of his name, as did the other Slytherins.

"Can I have a word?" Hermione asked, trying to sound confident despite so many reproachful eyes on her.

Draco surveyed her coolly for a moment before nodding once. He turned to his friends and quietly told them something. They glanced at Hermione, some wearing smirks, before beginning to walk away. As if it was some great effort, Draco turned back to her and waited.

Hermione walked up to him, trying to gather her thoughts.

"What?" Draco asked, the disinterest and scorn in his voice surprising Hermione.

"Are you…is something the matter?"

"Porridge was a bit off this morning," he answered with a shrug.

Hermione would've laughed had it not been for his guarded eyes and cold body language.

"No, I mean, with us."

"When has there ever been an 'us'?" Draco asked, his eyebrows rising.

"You haven't been talking to me for days," Hermione said, beginning to feel stupid.

"Has something happened with Zella?"

"Well, no but…we spent the whole of Monday afternoon talking and I just thought-"

"That we were suddenly the best of friends?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing with something that looked an awful lot like hatred. "Don't be so naïve Granger. You were there and I was bored. Try not to take it to heart."

"_You _came up to _me_!" Hermione reminded him angrily, stung by his sudden rejection.

"I didn't think you'd take it so seriously," Draco said, the makings of a smirk on his lips.

Feeling horribly close to tears, Hermione shook her head in disgust.

"I can't believe I thought you'd changed."

Draco just watched her as she walked away. He'd hurt her and it had actually made him feel bad to do so. As she disappeared from sight, he considered the irony that he had had to hurt her before realising just how much he liked her. But it was better that he hurt her now rather than later when their friendship had had a chance to develop into something more. He shook his head firmly. It was something that could never be. If Trayton had taught him anything, it had been that people like him and Hermione weren't meant to be together. It was better that he had ended it now before Hermione found out…

* * *

One week after the Monday that had apparently changed everything, Zella came to visit Hermione in her dreams again.

"Hello," Hermione said cautiously, eyeing her surroundings.

They were in the usual corridor although what appeared to be several hours earlier, if indeed it was even on the same day. Light streamed through the windows and students walked silently by, their mouths moving but no sound coming out.

Zella stood before her, as ethereally beautiful as ever but with a expression struggling to hide pain and sorrow.

_I'm sorry that I acted so rashly the last time we met, _she thought. _Time doesn't pass here so I don't know when I last saw you. I wasn't angry at you, I was just very shocked and upset and hopeful all at once…_

She trailed off and looked away. Any irritation that Hermione had felt towards her instantly melted away. Zella still radiated childlike innocence despite all that she had been through.

"It's been a week," Hermione answered carefully, not wanting to upset her even more. "And I don't blame you one bit."

_How are things with the Malfoy boy going? _Zella asked.

"His name is Draco and worse than ever," Hermione informed glumly. "We really seemed to be connecting and all of a sudden he's gone back to his old self, insulting my bloodline, my friends, you name it."

_That's a shame, _Zella sighed. She gnawed on her lip before approaching Hermione. _I've been thinking that…I mean, if it works…there's no reason that it shouldn't although obviously I saw it from my point of view, but…I want to find out who killed me._

"Oh," Hermione said after a moment, shocked. "Uh, alright. Are you sure?"

_Yes, _Zella nodded with a determined expression that quickly faded. _Do you think it's the right thing to do?_

Before Hermione could even answer, the people around them began to move faster and faster until they became nothing more than blurs. The sun set quickly and the corridor was cast into darkness. Rain hammered on the windows and lightning flashed.

"I think you answered that for yourself," Hermione replied.

As awful as it sounded, she was suddenly intrigued and excited. It was a mystery that she hadn't been able to solve and it had annoyed her. Now she got to find out the answer and, as selfish as it was, a part of her was glad that she had something to tell Draco.

"How come you've never revisited this before?" Hermione asked.

_I was scared, _Zella admitted. _And if Trayton seeks to free me then he'll want to know who killed me and this may be the only chance I get. _She laughed nervously. _I'm anxious, is that odd?_

"Not at all."

In truth, Hermione's own heart was beating rather rapidly.

_I got the message to meet Trayton here at midnight, _Zella explained softly, staring at the spot where her lifeless body would soon lie. _It didn't really strike me as unusual; he'd often choose foolish times to meet up. There had been a ball that day and I hadn't bothered changing. I wanted to look nice for him._

Hermione glanced at Zella's dress, still beautiful if one ignored the dark stain across her abdomen.

After a minute in silence heavy with anticipation, the soon-to-be-murdered Zella came walking softly around the corner, a smile on her face. Even in a memory she radiated warmth and happiness and Hermione found tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of what was about to happen.

_Trayton didn't show, _Zella whispered as she watched her memory glance around the corridor. _After a few minutes I began to realize that I had been tricked. I was about to leave when I heard a creak- _sure enough, a floorboard creaked distantly - _and then there was nothing but darkness._

The corridor went dark and, at a glance out of the window, Hermione saw that a cloud had drifted over the moon. Her heart racing, she squinted eagerly down the corridor to where the shadows suddenly began to move. A figure stole down the corridor so lightly that they could've been a ghost.

"H-hello?" Zella called fearfully, her eyes wide and her body visibly shaking.

Hermione blinked once and tears fell down her cheeks. That poor girl. She didn't deserve what was about to happen to her. The figure stalked closer to Zella, the darkness still masking his or her identity.

"Is there someone-?"

Quick as the lightning that had been striking before, a hand secured itself over Zella's mouth. Hermione jumped violently and covered her own mouth, wishing to but unable to tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of her.

Zella, Heaven help her, struggled for all she was worth but the figure, who appeared to be male, held onto her tightly. He raised his free hand and as he did the moon reappeared and glinted off the metal of the raised knife in the man's hand.

"Forgive me," the man whispered in a voice so distorted that it didn't sound human, before plunging the knife straight into Zella's stomach.

Zella crumpled forward on the impact into a patch of moonlight, her eyes wider than ever, her mouth trembling as she made little gasping noises. She struggled for breath, refusing to give up her fight before the man, who seemed to be sobbing, knelt down next to her and placed his hand over her nose and mouth, suffocating her. His free hand removed the knife (causing Zella to spasm in agony) and, Zella's blood all over him, gently caressed her hair.

That was the first thing that made Hermione's stomach lurch. Because now she thought about it, who else would apologize to Zella before stabbing her or caress her hair so gently as she lay dying, other than someone who obviously cared for her?

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered, leaning against the wall for support as the truth dawned. She felt sick to her stomach and not just from the blood that now coated the floor.

_Please no, _Zella's ghost thought, beginning to cry, although of course the tears were missing.

The man, openly crying as Zella's chest fell and did not rise again, sank his head on top of hers and the moonlight that shone on his face confirmed what Hermione and Zella had already guessed.

As Trayton kissed the forehead of the woman he loved and killed, Zella's ghost began to wail, the noise soon turning into a scream that echoed through the halls. Trayton retrieved the knife, but before he could set about slicing out Zella's tongue, the scene around them went black as Zella lost her grip on the memory. She had managed to hold on to life for that long but she couldn't remember what she hadn't been alive to witness.

Hermione opened her eyes and, as everything hit her, began to cry quietly into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yikes, that came out a little darker than I had intended it to. I'd better put up a warning at the beginning of the chapter -elevator music- okay, it's done.**

**Oddly enough, the last part I actually wrote at midnight -spooky-.**

**Reasons and motivations will become clear next chapter, hope that you all enjoyed and thank you very much for all of your reviews!**

**Have a great week,**

**- Momo**


	13. Storytelling

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

The same night, Draco lay in his bed, frustrated at his inability to get to sleep and frustrated even more by the girl preventing him from doing so. He hadn't expected Hermione to try and talk to him again after what he'd said to her, but he was a little disappointed that she hadn't made more of an effort or put up a bit of a fight. Still, he caught her glancing at him from time to time across a room or when they were both outside. He tried so hard not to look back, he really did, but he couldn't help but watch her. The way she moved, talked and laughed…although she hadn't been doing much of the last one recently. If Draco was one for self-loathing then he'd have a very bad case of it on his hands right now. Luckily he wasn't, so he didn't. He did, however, feel guilty for not having more faith and trust in the girl. Maybe if he'd told her what Trayton had confided in him, she'd understand. Or maybe she'd hate him forever and never speak to him again. Having a feeling that it was the latter option that would happen, he had just kept silent and chosen to protect her from the truth.

Although, thinking about it, that was absolute rubbish.

In truth, it had been himself he'd been trying to protect. In Hermione he'd found everything he'd been complaining about not having in the Slytherins: humour, intelligence and wit. He'd even found things he hadn't been looking for, like kindness and understanding. This alone shouldn't worry him, except…well, once he had initially began to pick out her few redeeming qualities to make spending time with her more bearable, he found that, even weeks later, he hadn't been able to stop naming the things he liked about her. His concentration had gone to hell, he was constantly struggling with himself not to speak to her and feelings of guilt were gnawing him up. All in all, he was being completely pathetic and it really unnerved him. He had been brought up with parents (well, a father) who _worshipped _the single most evil wizard that ever lived…strong affection of any type wasn't really condoned in the Malfoy household.

So were his growing feelings just an act of rebellion? No, they felt real somehow. Not that he had much (okay, any) experience to draw from but he just knew. Now the question was what he was supposed to do about it. He wasn't one of these strong types who suffered in silence about forbidden love. He was more the 'I like her so I'll go for it' type.

Making his decision to talk to her again in the morning, he turned over in his bed and fell asleep.

Little did he know that, several floors above him, the object of his affections was quietly crying her heart out over him…and not in the way he would've wanted.

* * *

Hermione lay awake until the sun began its slow climb over the grounds. As the first rays struggled through the window, she sniffed slightly and rubbed at her eyes. Each tear that had fallen that night felt as though it had scarred her skin and that everyone would be able to tell she was upset. But Lavender and Parvati did nothing but glance at her as they got ready and grace her with a few moments of conversation.

"Didn't you sleep at all last night?" Lavender asked as she dragged a brush through her hair.

Hermione shook her head, not quite able to get out of bed just yet. Her mind kept going back to one specific thing. She didn't know for sure that Draco knew about who had killed Zella, so there really was no reason to be upset, right? Right. Only, the feeling in the pit of Hermione's stomach told her that Draco knew. He knew and he had kept it from her.

"I can lend you some makeup if you want," Lavender continued. "I mean, you can use magic but sometimes it's just nice to make the effort with makeup." She and Parvati exchanged a sly look. "Especially if you want to impress a certain someone."

"I'm not in love with Harry or Ron," Hermione said, for what she felt must have been the hundredth time ever since she had met the girls.

"We're not saying that you are," Parvati giggled. "We've been seeing you in the library a _lot _recently with…" she trailed off as she and Lavender smirked triumphantly at the potential scandal that the gossip they had could cause.

"It's nothing," Hermione muttered, slumping back onto her pillows.

"We're just saying, it's weird," Parvati said with a shrug, turning to her mirror and fixing her hair. "I mean, you and Dra-"

"It's _nothing_," Hermione repeated in a hiss. "He had a problem that I tried to help him with and now we-"

"There's a 'we'?" Lavender interrupted, pouncing on the potential information.

"No," Hermione sighed wearily. "And there never was. So before you go around telling Harry, Ron and whoever else-"

"You mean they don't _know_?!" Parvati asked, scandalized.

"-you want to tell, just remember that there's nothing to actually tell," Hermione finished, putting a palm over her closed eyes to negate the effects of the headache she could feel coming on.

"That's a shame," Lavender began slowly and in a way that instantly made Hermione suspicious.

"Yeah," Parvati agreed in the exact same tone.

"What?" Hermione asked, sitting up and glaring at the girls.

"Nothing," Parvati shrugged but she glanced at Lavender to finish off their apparently shared train of thought.

"Just that…well, forbidden love is the best love of all," Lavender finished with a sort of contented sigh.

Hermione flopped back onto the bed with a groan.

"So romantic," Parvati agreed. "Sworn enemies falling in love…striving to hide their relationship from their loved ones whilst maintaining the spark that drove them together in the first place."

"Definitely," Lavender agreed.

"Have you been reading Muggle romance books again?" Hermione asked, pressing her hand firmly down on her now pounding head.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Don't make me regret turning you both onto reading," Hermione warned. "And for the love of Merlin, _don't _go spreading around your theories."

"The Slytherins would probably band together and kill you for going out with one of their own or something," Lavender laughed.

"I can actually see them doing that," Parvati giggled. "Well, we should be getting down to breakfast. Don't leave it too late, Hermione, or else all the good food will be gone."

They left, leaving Hermione close to tears as their words brought back the awful memory of the horrific dream.

* * *

"Where's Hermione this morning?" Ron asked as soon as Lavender and Parvati walked, giggling about something, down the staircase from the girl's dormitory. "She's usually here by now."

"She didn't sleep last night," Parvati told him. "Pining for a man she can't have."

"Pining for a who she can't what?"

"Nothing," Lavender trilled, exiting the room with Parvati in tow.

"Those girls…" Ron sighed, shaking his head at them. "Seriously, they should have been institutionalized a long time ago."

"You think that of all girls," Harry pointed out, standing next to Ron as they both waited for Hermione.

"It's true for most girls," Ron answered.

"Just the ones we seem to know."

"Yeah."

Moments passed in silence.

"Right, I'm bored, what's taking her so long?" Ron grumbled.

"Bored or hungry?"

"Both."

"I just don't get why we can't go up there," Harry sighed. "Well, I mean, I do, obviously, but it's really annoying at times like this."

"Well I'm not going to potions on an empty stomach," Ron declared, folding his arms stubbornly. "Hey," he added suddenly to a petrified first year girl. "Can you go up there and get Hermione Granger for us? She's got bushy hair and probably looks really scary as it's first thing in the morning. Thanks."

The girl gave a nod and scampered out of sight.

"Probably looks really scary?" Harry repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Hermione would kill you if she heard you say that."

"I can't be held accountable for anything I say before I've had breakfast."

Harry laughed and comfortable silence fell again as they waited for Hermione.

"She's on her way down," the first year informed them nervously before almost falling over herself to get away from the boys.

"Is she scared of us because we're older, because we're boys or because you're Harry Potter?" Ron asked, shaking his head.

"All of the above, I'm betting," Harry sighed. There was a noise in front of them and he smiled. "Hey Hermi…oh."

"That bad, huh?" Hermione asked with a weak laugh.

It really was. She was shaking, pale and her eyes were heavy and only just starting to lose their red tinge. Her robes seemed to hang off her, but this was only due to the way she was holding herself.

"Hermione, what…?" Ron began, his eyes wide with concern and all thoughts of food forgotten.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she said in a voice that strained just above a murmur. "Can we go to breakfast?"

"Sure," Harry replied uncertainly.

He could tell that Ron was just as unsure as he was as to whether they should prop Hermione up in case she fell over, which she looked very likely to do. She seemed to wobble with every step she took so they walked slowly to breakfast. Ron didn't complain once. Well, not audibly.

"Blimey, Hermione, you okay?" several Gryffindors, including Ginny, Dead and Seamus asked as Ron and Harry all but guided her into her seat.

"I'm fine," she answered although her voice and movements showed differently.

Her friends kept a wary eye on her throughout the meal. Something had deeply unsettled her and they - Harry and Ron in particular - were determined to find out what it was. The boys were sure that Hermione's sudden change had something to do with Zella. After all, what else could happen so drastically over night?

"So…we have any essays to do for Snape?" Ron asked, trying to break the silence that had settled around them.

"He almost forced me to re-do that Fountain of Youth essay," Harry grumbled, glad of a new topic. "I still can't believe we all got different marks for that."

"It was worthy of a high grade," Ron commented with a nod. "I make sure I only plagiarize the very best."

He and Harry smiled encouragingly at Hermione, who kept her head down and was frowning sadly into her bowl of porridge, stirring it listlessly with a spoon.

"You…you should probably eat something," Harry said, exchanging a worried glance with Ron. "You know, get your strength up for potions today."

"Yeah," Ron agreed with a forced laugh, "I don't care that you're getting along with Malfoy, he's still a pain to be in the same class as."

Hermione blinked once and a tear slid down her cheek. Keeping her head down, she pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of all these people…even of the majority of them weren't paying her any attention. She felt a hand on her shoulder and all of a sudden Harry was murmuring in her ear and Ron was shifting himself to allow them to pass.

"Should we go back to the common room?" Harry suggested quietly. "Do you want that?"

Feeling like a child, Hermione nodded wordlessly and, keeping her eyes averted from everyone, she and her friends swept out of breakfast.

Luckily no one really noticed, except for Draco.

He ignored Pansy who was trying to attract his attention and instead watched Hermione leave. She was obviously upset over something but pride prevented her from crying in public. That was something Draco definitely respected. He was glad that her idiot friends had accompanied her, although it irritated him that they had taken so long to acknowledge that she was close to tears. He just wished that he had been the one to comfort her.

* * *

"I will _kill _him," Ron hissed to Harry as Hermione sat sobbing near the fire.

"We need to find out what he did," Harry said, barely managing to keep his quiet voice level.

"Harry, if he so much as _touched _her-"

"I know," Harry nodded, looking over to Hermione. She was staring desolately at a spot on the carpet, her knees hunched up to her chest. "If he did then he's already dead."

They knew Hermione well enough not to ask her what was wrong; she'd tell them in her own time. They were surprised, though, when she managed to compose herself and heaved herself up.

"Whoa whoa whoa, where do you think you're going?" Ron demanded, quickly standing up with her.

"Potions," Hermione answered, smoothing down her robes and wiping her eyes delicately.

She started towards the portrait hole, leaving Harry and Ron bewildered.

"But, Hermione, you-"

"You were crying and-"

"You're really upset and I don't think seeing…_him_…will make it any better!"

Hermione turned around, a smile fixed determinedly onto her face.

"I'm a little emotional right now but that's no reason to miss a lesson," she said, sounding like her old self and someone completely new at the same time. "Especially one as important as potions. We may not like the teacher but that doesn't mean that the subject doesn't have valuable aspects that we can definitely use in later life."

"Well…if you're sure," Harry said uncertainly.

"Of course I am," Hermione said with that unnatural smile. "Come on or we'll be late."

They weren't late, although it was a close call. Which was actually a good thing, as Harry and Ron didn't get the chance to murder Malfoy as they passed him briefly in the dungeon. Instead they sat in the furthest place away from him that they possibly could and set Hermione protectively between them. The boys were giving off such 'mess with her and die' vibes that even Snape didn't seem to pick on them as much that lesson. Of course, he still aimed snide remarks their way occasionally, particularly when Ron's cauldron turned itself into a tangerine. Ron stared at it for a moment before sighing in defeat.

"I don't even know how that happened."

At least it got a giggle from Hermione, albeit a quiet one.

"I mean, I wasn't even making a potion to transform things," Ron continued, gesturing to it disparagingly. "And even if I was, it shouldn't have affected the cauldron."

"That's what you get for buying cut-price cauldrons, Weasley," Snape commented coldly as he passed by. "At least your friends' potions are somewhat adequate, perhaps you should look to them for inspiration."

"Perhaps you should shut up," Ron muttered as Snape walked away.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and don't let me catch you saying that ever again," Snape called back almost lazily, as though bored of continually stripping Gryffindor of their points.

"Want me to get you a spare cauldron?" Hermione asked sympathetically as Ron poked his own mutated cauldron with his wand.

"Please," Ron answered with a frown of pure concentration. "Now, if I just…"

Hermione got up and made her way to the supplies cabinet. A few moments later there was a large squelch as Ron exploded the tangerine.

"Damn it!" he shouted, earning further point reductions.

Hermione smiled as she gathered up another set of ingredients and placed them carefully inside the precariously balanced cauldron that was in danger of tipping from the shelf…

"Need any help with that?"

The cauldron tumbled to the ground with a _thunk_ and rolled there for a few moments. Everyone in the class glanced towards her before turning back to their own word.

"Not from you," Hermione spat, kneeling down to gather the ingredients back up.

Unfortunately, Draco ignored her and tried to help anyway, kneeling next to her.

"What's up with you?" he asked indignantly as she slapped his hand away the moment it touched hers.

Hermione froze for a moment. Did she really want to confront him here? Making up her mind, she glanced up at him, her eyes shining and her mouth trembling.

"I found out who killed Zella," she whispered slowly.

Immediately Draco's hard mask of a face softened. His eyes flashed with alarm although he tried to hide it. Hermione, determined to keep eye contact, looked at him. How much had their relationship changed in the past few weeks? So much and yet not enough. Did he know that he occupied her thoughts? Did he care? So many questions, and yet they could all be answered by his reply to her next question.

"I'll only ask this once," she began, her voice wobbling slightly, "and, please, I need the truth." She searched his eyes one last time. "Did you know Trayton killed Zella?"

Holding her gaze, Draco was silent for a moment. Then he blinked, just once, and looked down at the ground. That was all Hermione needed.

"I knew it," she spat, although the tears in her eyes diluted the venom in her tone.

"Hermione-"

"I trusted you," she reminded him, her voice cracking.

"You still can," Draco implored, sounding too much like he was begging but not managing to care. All dignity and pride had been thrown aside now that his and Hermione's friendship (or whatever it was they had) was in real jeopardy.

Hermione shook her head, tears streaming. She opened and closed her mouth but, not able to find any words, pushed herself off the ground and half-ran from the room.

Draco cursed and made to go after her. He hadn't told her because she'd hate him, didn't she see that? He didn't like staying away from her, it had been for the best! He reached the door when Potter and Weasley appeared, snarling and with their wands at his throat.

"Move," he snapped, any patience he may have had with them quickly vanishing.

"What did you do to her?" Weasley demanded, blocking the door.

"Nothing!" Draco protested.

"Don't lie," Potter snarled, his eyes narrowing behind the frames of his glasses. "She's been a wreck recently and all we know is that it has something to do with you and this mess you got her mixed up in."

"She was helping me!"

"And you treated her like she was worthless!"

Finally, Snape noticed what was going on and strode towards them.

"Wands away," he ordered sharply. When the Gryffindors didn't comply, he scowled. "Wands away," he repeated with more force.

Glaring all the while, Potter and Weasley reluctantly pocketed their wands.

"You're not good for her," Weasley told him harshly. "Whatever delusion you've got going on, give it up. It won't happen. It didn't happen with Zella and Trayton and it won't happen with you and Hermione. Nothing's changed."

They went back to their seats, muttering as they went. Draco watched them go. Weasley was wrong. Everything had changed. He just had to make Hermione see that.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey everyone, very tired so I'll make this quick. Thank you ****so**** much for your reviews and for getting Echo to over the 100 mark! Why Trayton killed Zella will become clear in the coming chapters, so patience is required for anyone who wants a reason now (:**

**Have a great week everyone!**

**- Momo**


	14. For You

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"I've really messed this one up," Draco muttered, his head in his hands as he sat at the familiar table in the library. "And I mean really. Catastrophic is actually an understatement."

"Zella will never forgive me now," Trayton sighed, lost in his own realms of trouble and grief.

"Well, yes, you _slaughtered_ her, I'm not surprised if she's a little sore at you," Draco snapped, throwing the ghost a glare.

"Yes, Draco, I did," Trayton retaliated furiously, the bookcases around them quivering violently. "And if I did that to someone I loved in life, why would I hesitate to do it to someone like _you _in death where I have nothing to fear?"

"Because then you'd have to convince Hermione all by yourself and I'd say that right now she hates you even more-"

"Than she hates you?" Trayton cut in, cocking his head to the side. "Well, that _is_ a rather considerable amount."

"This is all your fault," Draco spat at him, standing up so quickly that the chair beneath him toppled sideways.

"Yes, _you_ manipulated someone you supposedly care about for information, _you_ tried to steal a precious family heirloom from her, _you_ hid things from her, _you_ lied to her and _you _effectively allowed her to be half-driven to insanity…I see now how this is all my fault."

"It is!" Draco insisted angrily. "You made me do those things!"

Trayton laughed mirthlessly and shook his transparent head in disgust.

"Listen to me, you selfish, ignorant boy. If you're going to use someone, ensure that you're not going to feel guilty about it later. Compassion is a blessing, yes, but sometimes it needs to be thrown aside in favour of more important things. You can't let your emotions get in the way of what needs to be done."

"I suppose you'd know all about that," Draco taunted lightly, changing tack. He could be cruel when the occasion called and he found that the truth phrased the right way and in the right tone was so much more effective than screaming insults. "Tell me, what did you feel that night? You must've seen Zella's eyes when she realized it was you who was ended her life so abruptly…you, the person who she loved and trusted the most in the whole world." He scoffed and coolly raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me that you saw all that and didn't feel a thing?"

Trayton face twitched but he determinedly held Draco's gaze. His eyes gave him away though.

"Yes."

"Then you're a liar."

Draco watched as Trayton seemingly melted away, too angry to say anything else. Did it give him any satisfaction? In truth, yes. There were many things that he didn't like, and being told he was to blame for something was one of them. Especially when it wasn't completely his fault.

When potions had finished that morning, he had come straight to the library. He didn't really know why; Hermione didn't seem to come here anymore. Regardless, this was always the first place he checked when he wanted to talk to her. Like now.

She had completely overreacted back in potions. Had she stayed, Draco would've had the time to explain to her exactly why he hadn't told her instead of just running off like that. Drama queen.

The logical side of Draco asked him how he could be angry at Hermione for reacting exactly the way she should have done. But the rest of his mind reminded him that she had no cause to be upset, it wasn't as though Draco had kept it from her for bad reasons. And she would realize this as soon as he found her and told her. Whenever that may be.

* * *

"…And that's when I saw Trayton's face," Hermione finished off glumly, all cried out for the time being. "Zella was just, I don't know, she was inconsolable."

"I'll bet," Harry murmured. "That must have been awful for her."

"And for you," Ron added, patting Hermione sympathetically on the arm.

Hermione managed a weak smile as the group descended into silence. The common room around them was bustling but no one paid them any attention, apart from the occasional person asking Hermione if she was okay. Some people were genuinely concerned but others, like Lavender and Parvati, asked it with a gleam in their eyes, obviously having seen Hermione and Draco talking just before Hermione stormed out in tears.

"So what will you do now?" Harry asked slowly, not wanting to ask but knowing that he had to. "I mean, Zella needs your help more than ever, you can't just abandon her."

"She can if it means talking to Malfoy again," Ron corrected stubbornly. "That fact that he's a complete twat aside, he shouldn't have kept something like that from Hermione in the first place."

"And therein lies the problem," Hermione sighed. "I can't leave Zella alone but I also can't speak to Dra…Malfoy right now."

"Do you want us to beat him up?" Ron asked sincerely.

"How will that solve anything?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"Well, it'll make me feel better, I don't know about Harry-"

"It'll make me feel better," Harry assured with a grim smile.

"It'll make us feel better," Ron repeated to Hermione, his face lighting up. "Please?"

"No," Hermione said, managing a small laugh. "That will only make things worse. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, I actually need him."

She hadn't realized this before, but saying it out loud made it clearer. She needed him to help her with Trayton and Zella, she needed him to give his frank views on things, she needed him to make her laugh when things got difficult.

"I'll talk to him," Hermione decided, her stomach dropping at the idea. When Harry and Ron's faces darkened, she hastened to add, "Well, I have to! The sooner I get the ghost business cleared up, the sooner we can all go back to normal."

What she didn't add, however, was that she didn't really want to go back to normal if normal didn't include seeing Draco.

* * *

The next morning, his mind fully made up, Draco strode to breakfast. His resolve faltered when, not only was Hermione not there, but he was receiving death glares from the majority of the Gryffindor table. More so than usual, that was.

"What's with them?" he asked Pansy as he took his seat, feeling far too many pairs of eyes on him.

"Apparently you really upset golden girl Granger," Pansy shrugged, spreading thick butter across her toast. She glanced at him. "Did you?"

"You have to ask?" Blaise Zabini chimed in, dryly helpful as ever.

"Thanks, Blaise, for that vote of confidence," Draco frowned, helping himself to breakfast. "But yeah, I sort of did."

Blaise chuckled approvingly but the noise was drowned out as the owls descended into the hall for their morning duties. Draco glanced up and out of the windows, where snow covered the grounds. When a letter dropped in front of Blaise, he lifted a dark eyebrow at it.

"Are you going to sit there glaring at it or are you going to open it?" Pansy all but demanded above the noise.

Blaise sighed and opened the envelope. He scanned the letter it contained and rolled his eyes when he'd finished.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked as Blaise crumpled up the letter.

"My mother's getting married," Blaise explained, contempt poisoning his tone. "Again."

"This is, what, the seventh time?" Draco asked lightly.

"Eighth," Blaise corrected in disgust. "Wonder how this one will end up?"

"Dead in a ditch?" Pansy suggested, shooting him a sly glance.

"My mother has more class than that," Blaise sneered in reply.

Draco was about to wittily retort something (because even Slytherins enjoy a good 'your mother' joke) when he noticed Hermione and her boneheaded friends had sat down at their table, evidently having come in when the owls were descending. An owl had dropped a parcel in front of Hermione and, as he watched her open it, Draco inwardly prayed it wasn't another haunted piece of jewellery.

"I mean, come on, like _this _marriage will be any different than all the others," Blaise was (still) complaining. "He's rich and handsome and soon he'll become very boring and all my mother will have to do is make sure he's included her in his will."

"You have pretty serious mother issues, don't you?" Draco said, turning his attention back to the conversation.

"Says you," Blaise answered with another lift of his eyebrow.

"I get along with my mother perfectly well," Draco shrugged. _It's my father who's the bastard. _"What are you doing over Christmas?"

"Going home, most likely to meet," Blaise straightened the letter out and read disparagingly, "_Rupert_."

"My parents say they want to get out of the country," Pansy informed them all. "Somewhere warm, hopefully. Get away from this damn weather. What are you doing, Draco?"

He shrugged, quickly glancing over at Hermione. He was going home, of course, but he didn't want to leave her alone with two very angry ghosts. That only strengthened his resolve to speak to her…only not here, not in front of everyone. He'd lost his nerve. Instead, in true Slytherin style, he'd catch her when she was alone and force her to hear him out…or something. Planning wasn't his strong suit, although he'd had enough time to think of a strategy. Maybe he'd just wing it and hope for the best.

He looked at Hermione again, the exact same moment she glanced up at him. Their eyes locked for a moment before she hastily looked away. He sighed and turned back to breakfast.

* * *

"Hermione, why are we outside?" Ron complained three hours later and he, Harry and Hermione trudged through the blanket of snow that covered the ground.

"Because we haven't visited Hagrid in a long time and I feel bad for it," Hermione answered, her breaths coming out in mists.

"I'll feel worse when I die of pneumonia," Ron muttered.

"What was that?" Hermione asked sharply, stopping walking and turning around to him with her arms crossed.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly. "Just that it's pneumonia-contracting weather."

Hermione narrowed her eyes although privately she too was slowly becoming numb because of the temperature. She was about to go on a rant but was cut off by someone shouting her name. She turned and her face instantly fell.

"You're kidding me with this," Harry muttered, taking a step towards Draco as he tracked through the snow.

"Harry," Hermione warned. "I need to talk to him sooner or later."

Harry glanced at her, his anger fading slightly as he nodded and stepped back. They all watched as Draco, don in an emerald green scarf that was visible a mile away, made his way towards them.

"Hermione," Draco repeated, doing his best to ignore the hatred radiating from Harry and Ron that was enough to melt the snow around them. "Can I talk to you?"

"Yes," Hermione answered shortly, doing her best to maintain eye contact with him although her gaze kept drifting away. "Walk with me?"

Draco nodded and made to step out of Harry and Ron's way. But Ron remained firmly where he was, his eyes colder than the icicles that hung from the trees.

"You hurt her again and I'll beat you to death with a shovel, you understand that, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded stiffly before walking around him and waiting for Hermione to join him. He looked at her expectantly.

"I'll see you later," Hermione murmured to her friends. "Say hello to Hagrid for me."

She and Draco began to walk, slow enough to hear Harry and Ron's muted conversation:

"Why a shovel?" Harry asked, amused.

"Well, he'd see magic attacks coming, wouldn't he?" Ron asked as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"And he wouldn't see a shovel coming?"

"_No one_ sees a shovel coming, Harry."

Hermione smiled to herself.

"Your friends are idiots," Draco told her as they tread carefully down the path to the forest.

"They may be, but they're _my _friends and I trust them," Hermione replied coolly, the mood turning serious with her words.

"You don't trust me?"

"Why should I?"

Draco sighed and seemed to struggle for words.

"See, you can't even tell me," Hermione said quietly. "We're just wasting our time here."

"I wouldn't be talking to you if I thought it was a waste of time," Draco informed her testily, scowling at the ground.

"So then why _are_ you talking to me?" Hermione challenged, deciding that the trees around them were a good enough cover for a confrontation and coming to a stop.

"Because I want you back."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't mean that, obviously," Draco explained quickly. "I meant that I need you." At her raised eyebrows, he panicked. "No, I didn't mean that either." Marvelling at how quickly he had messed up, he fumbled over his sentences until he settled for saying, "I don't know what to tell you."

"Try the truth," Hermione said, more gently but still remaining cautious.

She was giving him a chance and he would grasp at that chance with all his strength.

"The day in the library was…" Draco sighed and shifted, unable to look at anything other that the trees surrounding them. "I enjoyed it. Talking. With you." He sighed and shook his head slightly. "But then you left and Trayton came and he told me everything and I..." He tried to choose his next words carefully. "I knew that what he told me would cause problems, for me, for you, for our…friendship."

He glanced up and quickly away again. He was being pathetic, he knew it, but at least he wasn't blushing. Now that _would_ be embarrassing. Nor was he putting himself out there. Telling Hermione that he couldn't stop thinking about her, that he missed her, only for her to tell him she didn't feel the same or, Merlin forbid, laugh at him? That would be unbearable. He hadn't really had self-doubt before and he had to say that he wasn't liking it very much.

"So you ignored me and insulted me instead?" Hermione asked, frowning. "That caused problems for me."

"It wasn't like I wanted to do it," Draco pointed out with a frown of his own.

"Surely you knew that I'd find out eventually?" Hermione challenged. "Why hide it from me? Why go to all that bother?"

A long, painful silence filled the air.

"I didn't want you to think that I was like every other Slytherin," Draco finally admitted quietly. "Or like every other Malfoy. I wanted you to think that I was different."

Hermione scoffed and turned away, suddenly angry.

"I did," she told him, unexplained venom in her voice. "At first." She shook her head sadly as light snowflakes began to dance from the sky. "But you've done nothing to show me that you're any different than what I expected you to be."

"I _am _different," Draco disagreed.

"Why did you agree to help Trayton?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes fixed in front of her.

"Truthfully? Because there was something in it for me."

"Then you're no different."

"But I want to be, shouldn't that count for something?" He took a step towards her and his voice became softer. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. It was stupid and selfish but it was for you."

It was amazing how much easier he found it talking to the back of her head; he didn't have her eyes to distract him, or that look she got when she was considering hurting him.

"You've made me question everything I know about muggleborns, did you know that? It's quite a feat. I can be very stubborn."

"I've noticed," Hermione answered.

"Which is why I'm not going to give up until you forgive me."

"And if that never happens?"

"Then I'll think you're ridiculously overreacting," Draco answered promptly. Just because he liked the girl didn't mean he wouldn't continue to speak his mind. "But I'll keep trying regardless." He paused thoughtfully. This would be embarrassing but hopefully worth it. "You still don't think I'm different than other Slytherins? Alright. My mother has a large collection of books. One day a few years ago I picked up 'Little Women' and read it all. I couldn't put it down and I _cried _when Beth died."

Hermione half-turned, the beginnings of a smile on her lips.

"You cried?" she asked.

"A little," Draco answered, trying to keep whatever masculinity he had left. "It was sad."

"It was," Hermione agreed. "But you, Draco Malfoy, cried?"

She turned completely, her eyes sparkling with amusement and a smile firmly planted on her lips.

"No," Draco answered, seeing that his revelation would provide Hermione with endless fuel for mocking him. "I lied. I laughed evilly and rubbed my hands with glee."

"Too late now," Hermione teased. "I've seen your human side."

"Do you like it?" Draco asked, testing the waters.

"I've seen worse," Hermione smiled. "Now let's go back inside. It's cold, not to mention lunch is nearly over."

"Meet me in the library tonight?" Draco asked casually as they began their walk back to Hogwarts.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yes, I'm being aloof."

"It doesn't suit you."

"Noted."

They walked in amiable silence for awhile.

"So…do you cry at every sad piece of literature or was it exclusively a 'Little Women' thing?" Hermione asked, casting a sly sideways glance at her walking partner.

"Shut up, Granger," Draco answered evenly.

Hermione just smiled.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey everyone, sorry about the lateness of the chapter, I've got so much coursework going on right now it's freaking untrue. Also, I'm in London for a couple of days next week, not sure if another chapter will be out before then.**

**Hermione's still annoyed with Draco, but who can resist that Slytherin charm? (:**

**I kind of had to include snow in this chapter, because in the last week we've had a lot of snow here in England. It's funny, in a bad way, because everything has kind of just shut down. Apparently, we are NOT equipped to deal with snow. But hey, I got a couple of days off college so I wasn't complaining (:**

**Hope that you all enjoyed, thank you very much for your reviews, they honestly kept me so motivated when I'm drinking endless cups of coffee and typing furiously.**

**Have a great rest of week everyone!**

**- Momo**


	15. Needles And String

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

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* * *

**

A/N: Sorry about the age it took to update, there's been some problems with the site. Either that, or there's just been problems for my computer and everyone else's has been fine...either way, enjoy! :)

* * *

"…Which is when Hagrid told us that her name is Bertha and that he's in love with her!" Ron finished, dramatically waving his arms about. "Me and Harry are just sat there, flummoxed."

"Flummoxed," Harry agreed, mock-solemnly when Hermione glanced at him for his version of events.

"Well, I mean, what are you supposed to say when someone says they've fallen in love with their pen-pal?" Ron went on, rolling his eyes. "Other than what Harry asked, which was 'have you seen her picture?'"

"You asked if _she'd_ seen _his_, that's much more offensive!" Harry retaliated, leaving Hermione laughing.

"Ron, tell me you didn't," she half-begged for the sake of Hagrid's dignity.

"It was a valid question," Ron muttered. "We should be going down to dinner now."

"Should we, or do you just want to change the topic?" Hermione teased.

She had been in a much better mood since returning from her walk with Draco. While the air was still not completely clear between them, only wisps of fog remained. Those could be shooed away easily once Hermione asked a few simple questions. Now that she and Draco were a team again, the Zella/Trayton situation could be sorted out a lot easier and they'd…well, chances are they'd still remain friendly. Which was really all Hermione could expect. Nothing more than friends. Even though she may want more. Just friends. Which was fine. Really.

_When I fail to convince even myself, it's a bad sign, _Hermione thought with an inwards sigh, watching Harry and Ron exchange playful banter concerning Hagrid's love life.

* * *

When dinner was over and done with a couple of hours later, Hermione had to stop herself from racing to the library. She was looking forward to sitting at her usual table with her usual companion talking about unusual things. It had gotten her through the last two lessons of the day, double Ancient Runes.

When she stepped around the bookcase to their table, she saw that Draco was already there, reading.

"That's not 'Little Women' is it?"

Draco glanced up, smiled and closed the book.

"You know, I bare my soul and this is what I get in return," he complained mildly. "Next time I'll just keep quiet."

"I think that would be for the best," Hermione laughed, taking her seat opposite. "What were you reading?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Draco replied, reading the front cover. "I wanted to look into the secret societies of Hogwarts again, but I think I may have the wrong book."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's only got the extra-curricular things," Draco answered, flipping through the book scathingly. "Wizard chess club, past productions of plays and/or musicals, magic embroidery…I mean, _magic embroidery?_Come on, that's a waste of time if even I heard one. You'd just sit there watching needles move with string."

"Yes, because embroidery is done with string," Hermione sighed. "Or should I be glad that you don't know how to embroider?"

"You should be glad," Draco repeated, closing the book again. He nodded to it and shrugged. "Of course, I didn't get it from the restricted section so I suppose there was never going to be anything good in it."

"Why don't you ask Trayton?" Hermione asked, unable to keep the sharp edge from entering her voice.

"He's angry at me right now," Draco explained uncomfortably after a moment. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and he continued. "I was annoyed that you weren't talking to me and I basically took it out on him."

"And when you say 'took it out'…"

"I mean that I told him Zella would never forgive him for killing her and then kind of taunted him a little."

"Draco," Hermione frowned disapprovingly.

"I know, but I was really upset," Draco feebly explained. "When I see him next, I'll apologize."

"Let's not go crazy," Hermione muttered. "Although there are a few things I want to ask him. I mean, is it possible that he was being controlled or blackmailed or…or something?"

"He must've known if he'd been under the Imperius Curse with all these years to figure it out," Draco answered with a shake of his head. "And he definitely would've mentioned if he was being blackmailed into it. He didn't say much about why he did it."

"And you didn't think to ask?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"He was really traumatised," Draco shrugged. "Although he told me that 'they said it would be okay' a bunch of times."

"Sounds to me like someone talked him into it," Hermione mused, before scowling. "But how can you ever be talked into murdering the person you love the most?"

"I don't know," Draco sighed. "Maybe the Sons of Slytherin were _really _influential?"

"My argument still stands."

"I know, and I don't have an answer for you."

"We don't even know that it was the Sons - they're the most likely, of course," she added hurriedly at Draco's look. "But there were plenty of people who hated Zella and Trayton being together. Like Fin."

"He doesn't strike me as being manipulative what I've heard of him."

"But what you've heard of him was from Trayton, meaning that the information given was biased," Hermione mused. She glanced up to see Draco smiling slightly. "What?"

"You approach every problem from an academic perspective," he explained. "It's smart, don't get me wrong, but not everything can be solved by logic."

"What can't be solved by logic?" Hermione asked, naively.

"The heart," Draco answered simply. He was in dangerous territory if he wanted to remain in denial about his growing feelings for a certain someone. "Emotions. Love, hate, jealousy…acquaintanceship."

"I thought we were more than that," Hermione said with a playful smile.

"I hope we are." He paused and, before logic could enter into the equation, he began to speak again. "Do you think it's still wrong for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be together?"

"No," Hermione replied. Then she noted the serious expression on his face. "Oh."

"Oh?" Draco repeated, his heart beating faster.

"Oh," Hermione answered with a nod. She paused thoughtfully. "I don't think it's wrong for them to be together. Not if they like each other."

"But they're rival houses. They're supposed to hate each other."

"They're supposed to, yes, but try telling the heart that."

Both pairs of eyes were firmly fixed at the table below them at this point.

"And if their friends don't approve?"

"Then one will be coerced into murdering the other and live out the rest of their lives miserably."

Draco frowned and glanced back up.

"I'm being serious," he told her, annoyed.

"I think that if anyone wants to be together badly enough, they'll find a way," Hermione told him, also looking up. "But maybe we shouldn't complicate things when we're supposed to be solving a murder."

"Who said I was talking about us?" Draco asked with a grin as he leant back in his chair. His confidence had returned now that he knew he had a chance. "I was speaking in general."

"Sure you were," Hermione muttered, although she couldn't resist throwing him a quick smile.

* * *

"You know what I think, Harry?" Ron asked as he lounged about in the common room.

"I'm not sure I want to," Harry answered, checking over his latest piece of homework.

Ron ignored him.

"I think Malfoy likes Hermione," he continued. "I mean, look at the facts. He trekked through the snow, ignored my shovel threat _and_ faced pneumonia-contracting weather justto speak to her even when he knew that she was mad at him."

"And you wouldn't do any of that for a friend?" Harry asked, setting down the parchment.

"Would I hell."

"Thanks," Harry commented dryly. "But Malfoy has more sense than that. He knows that if he went after Hermione then Hermione would be upset and he'd have us to answer to."

"When's Malfoy ever had any sense at all, though?" Ron asked, frowning. "And they're together right now, doing Merlin knows what. I think we should interrupt them."

"Ron, they're in a library."

"A secluded part of the library!"

"They're surrounded by people, he won't try anything."

"The thing that bothers me is that she hasn't told him where to go yet," Ron admitted after a few moments of silence.

"She's too polite for that," Harry shrugged, although secretly it had been bothering him as well.

"Harry, she's already punched him in the face, politeness doesn't enter into the equation."

"Maybe she just feels like talking to someone who - yeah, we should interrupt."

The boys quickly stood up, scooped up their bags and were out of the common room before anyone could stop them.

* * *

"Has Zella come to you recently?" Draco asked, beginning a new topic.

"No," Hermione answered with a sigh. "I'm worried about her."

"Not to sound harsh, but she can't exactly hurt herself can she?"

"I know, but I bet it's tearing her up inside."

"And still no luck taking the necklace off?"

"None whatsoever. It'd be annoying if it wasn't so pretty."

"I never pegged you as a material girl," Draco teased.

"I never pegged you as someone to cry at-"

"Don't even say it," Draco cut across, holding up a hand. "I'm going to regret telling you that for the rest of my life."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Hermione smiled. "Though that's the price of trust, I'm afraid."

"I suppose the years of humiliation will all be worth it then," he answered sarcastically.

"Definitely. So, what should we do about Zella and Trayton?" Hermione asked, getting back to the subject at hand.

"Well, I would suggest sitting back and seeing how it all works out, but we've already tried that." He sighed contemplatively. "Maybe we should try and contact Zella outside of your dreams?"

"It'd be easier to talk to Trayton, who's actually on the same plane as us," Hermione frowned. "You might have to swallow your pride and call him."

"Only if you're then when I do."

"Deal."

Harry and Ron chose that moment to come skidding around the bookcase and come to an almost screeching halt in front of Hermione and Draco.

"Harry…Ron…" Hermione said slowly, glaring suspiciously at them. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for you," Ron answered, trying to regain control of his breathing. "Do you mind if we join you?"

"Yes," Draco answered shortly.

"Draco," Hermione warned.

"Lucky for us I'm not asking you, ferret," Ron snapped back.

"Ron!" Hermione scowled. She glanced at Harry but was surprised to see that he was furrowing his brow at her. "Harry?"

"If you want to stop role-call for just a moment, Hermione, we can see what they want," Draco said, glaring at Ron, who promptly sat down next to Hermione in revenge.

"You doing homework?" he asked Hermione, pulling out his own half-completed essay. Harry sat down and did the same.

"No," Hermione answered, glancing at Draco apologetically. "We're just talking about Zella."

"Oh, and how she was mutilated by _his_ ancestor, yeah," Ron nodded at Draco, as if he were recalling some long-forgotten information.

"Do you want to help or do you want to sit there sniping?" Hermione snapped, losing her patience.

"We can't do both?" Harry asked quietly.

"No."

"Alright."

An awkward silence descended. Hermione glanced around the table. Draco and Ron were sulking and Harry was keeping his non-moving eyes fixed to the parchment in front of him.

"So, Malfoy, how's the Death Eating family going?" Ron asked casually after a few minutes.

"Oh my God," Hermione muttered, picking up her bag. "If you can't be civil to one another then I'm not sitting here wasting my time."

She stalked out angrily, leaving an incredibly tense atmosphere behind.

"See what you made her do?" Draco snarled, gesturing at Hermione's rapidly retreating form.

"Us?" Harry repeated, slamming down his parchment. "What about you? Why are you always hanging around her? She doesn't want you to."

"Have you asked her that recently?" Draco replied smugly. He leant back in his chair and smirked. "Because last time I checked, she _definitely_ does."

"Will she want to be with you when you have no face?" Ron spat, withdrawing his wand and brandishing it in Draco's face.

Draco considered retorted with 'no face is better than your face' but ultimately decided against it.

"Listen up, Weasel," he settled for instead. Ron pocketed his wand again, although kept one hand on it just in case. "Hermione likes spending time with the both of you. She also likes spending time with me. Probably for very different reasons-"

"Don't even go there," Harry warned darkly. "Once Zella's sorted out, she'll stay away from you."

"Again, have you asked her about that recently?" Draco shot back before continuing. "It's in her best interests that we get along. At least for now."

"It's in her best interests that you're not in her life at all," Ron corrected. "So 'no' would be the answer to that."

Draco leant forward determinedly, placing his hands on the table.

"You know me," he told them both. "Do you really think I'd be spending my time with someone I've been brought up to believe inferior if she didn't mean anything to me?"

"She can't mean anything to you," Harry snarled.

"Why?" Draco demanded. "What's so wrong with us being together?"

There was murder in the Gryffindor boys' eyes.

"Ask that question again and I'll hit you," Ron promised. "We're going to do you a favour and not tell Hermione what you just said."

"Afraid she'll ask the same thing?" Draco taunted.

"Come on Ron," Harry muttered, not able to take any more of this. "We'll go find Hermione."

Draco watched them go. He'd just admitted to the two people that hated him most that he had feelings for their best friend. Was he suicidal? Possibly. But it was the truth. And if Hermione hadn't gotten his (now that he looked back on it) kind of subtle message before, she would now.

_She got the message before, _Draco assured himself. _Unless she thought I really _was _just speaking in general. Oh Merlin, what if she did? What if she thought I was kidding? Why didn't I just tell her?_

He smacked his head down onto the table. A muffled 'ow' escaped his lips a couple of seconds later.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Draco lifted his head swiftly and turned to stare at the figure behind him.

"Trayton! I thought I'd never see you again."

"No need to be melodramatic, Draco," Trayton sniffed. "I just needed some time to calm down."

"Yeah…about that," Draco said, suddenly sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's in the past," Trayton dismissed.

"I'm back with Hermione, so things with you and Zella can get going again," Draco said, still feeling guilty.

"You're back with her?" Trayton repeated with a frown. "I wasn't aware you were together."

"Oh, well, we're not, but-"

"You wish you were?"

"I like her," was all Draco answered with.

"Do you think about her when she isn't around? Want to be the one to make her laugh? Feel the need to protect her from dangers that aren't a threat yet?" Trayton took Draco's silence as an answer. "Well then, you want to be together. Have you tried asking her if she feels the same?"

"Yes and no," Draco answered thoughtfully. "Mainly no."

"I believe the library is closing soon, we should be leaving," Trayton said with a glance between the bookshelves. "And you should try asking her outright. Or, if you prefer the more romantic option, try writing her a letter or a poem."

Draco laughed out loud as he gathered up his things.

"Yes, because _I _write poems to girls," he chuckled, shrugging his bag strap up his shoulder and leaving the comfortable library. "Was that how you, uh, wooed Zella?"

"Actually, I recited Shakespeare to her," Trayton smiled. "And other poetry so, before you scoff, it's actually quite a effective method."

They were out on the corridor in no time, discussing various tactics for attracting the opposite sex. Not paying attention properly, Draco didn't know if he'd slowed down or if Trayton had sped up, but a moment later his skin became ice cold and he felt as though he had been plunged into a lake in the North Pole. What was more, his vision flickered with the scene in front of him appearing closer and further away in rapid succession. He blinked twice, and it was over.

"Sorry," Trayton called as he continued gliding.

Draco stood, confused. He knew the effects of a ghost walking through the living, and altered vision definitely wasn't one of them.

"Are you coming?" Trayton called back.

"Yeah," Draco answered after a moment, frowning.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello everyone, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter.**

**This last week has been so busy, with London and coursework and bleh. The plus side of a five hour coach journey to London (there and back, ugh) is that I got to think of quotes and stuff for 'Echo'. The negative side is that we had to watch High School Musical 3 on the way back. No offence to those who like it, but it's like one of the boys said: 'that should be a form of [swearword] torture'.**

**Thank you very much for your reviews, they motivated me and kept me smiling (:**

**Have a great week everyone!**

**- Momo**


	16. Serenity

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco spent the rest of the night in his common room, confused. Ghosts weren't supposed to have that effect on people. So, what had happened? Was he going insane? Unlikely. Although it was a plausible excuse for when his father demanded to know why he had feelings for someone other than a pureblood. Yes, definitely an excuse to keep in mind.

"You seem distracted," Pansy commented, sitting herself down next to him.

"Yes," he agreed. "But it's fine."

"You've been distracted a lot recently," Pansy pouted. "You've not spent a lot of time here these last few weeks. Always in the library. I know they have a lot of books and everything, but come on, it can't be that interesting."

"Maybe it's some_one _in the library rather than some_thing_," Blaise suggested, appearing suddenly to sit on Draco's other side.

"Merlin, Blaise, why do you keep popping up out of nowhere?" Draco snapped, his heart racing.

"Part of my mysterious charm," Blaise answered easily. "So, Draco has a girlfriend?"

"No."

Rather than Draco answering, it was Pansy. She looked ready to kill anyone but her who would dare call Draco Malfoy their own. Draco glanced her up and down. He wasn't worried; Hermione could take her.

"I'm asking Draco, not his stalker," Blaise told her coolly before turning back to his friend. "So, who's your girlfriend and how much are you paying her?"

"Moaning Myrtle and a lot more than she deserves."

Pansy giggled uncertainly, not quite knowing if a game was being played.

"You know I've had my eye on Myrtle for some time," Blaise mock-scowled. "How could you do this to me?"

"Money, my friend," Draco grinned. "The answer to all of life's problems."

"One day I'll be richer than you and Myrtle will be mine," Blaise warned lightly.

"But until that day…"

"I'll stay in the shadows."

"Good man."

Pansy, apparently bored with their conversation, pulled out a book and opened it halfway through, pulling out an emerald green bookmark as she did.

"Taking another crack at learning to read, Pansy?" Blaise asked.

"Shut up, I can read better than you can," Pansy retorted.

"Okay, but if you get stuck on any of the big words then just sound them out."

Pansy didn't look up from her book but responded with a two-fingered gesture that made Blaise smile. Draco caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow before glancing at Pansy. Blaise's eyes went wide before quickly narrowing and shaking his head swiftly. Draco smirked. Apparently he wasn't the only one with a crush.

Crush? What a stupid word. He instantly reprimanded himself for thinking it. There had to be a better word.

"Oh Pansy, I believe Blaise has something he wants to tell you," he said instead after a moment. This may prove to be very fun.

"If it's how much he doesn't like me, then I'll pass thank you," Pansy answered, again not looking up from her book.

"Oh, it's _definitely _not-"

"I was about to invite you to Draco's public execution, midnight tomorrow," Blaise cut in, shooting a deadly smile at Draco, who was about to reply with something along the lines of 'good, it'll save me from witnessing your five year olds idea of courtship' when he spotted Trayton in front of the fire.

The ghost was staring into the flames intently, a frown on his handsome face. Draco watched him for a moment, debating whether to approach him. He was obviously here to see his descendant, unless he was feeling nostalgic and wanted to see the inside of his old common room.

"Your ghost friend's over there," Blaise muttered, having also spotted Trayton.

"I know," Draco replied quietly. "I'm waiting to see if he-" at that moment, Trayton looked up at him "-never mind." He got up wearily and traipsed over to the spectre. "Everything alright?"

"I need you to call a meeting with Hermione tomorrow night," Trayton murmured, his eyes reflecting the blazing flames in front of him.

"If this is about trying to set us up together-" Draco began warningly but Trayton cut him off with a growl.

"This is much more important than that. Will you please just ask her?"

"Alright," Draco frowned. "Where, when and why?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow morning, I need to leave," Trayton answered quickly, glancing suddenly behind himself at the busy room.

"You're a ghost, where exactly do you need to be?" Draco asked, but Trayton had already vanished. He sighed. "Stupid ghost."

With one last glare into the fire, he went back to his friends, pointedly sitting so that Pansy and Blaise were next to each other. Diabolical.

* * *

Hermione got up the next morning feeling refreshed and energized. She missed Zella's company, but had to admit that undisturbed sleep was definitely one of life's luxuries that people took for granted. Plus it was the weekend and that fact would cheer anyone up.

From the stolen glances she took at Draco, he looked incredibly smug about something at breakfast. He kept muttering in Zabini's ear about something, who would in turn scowl. Whatever was being discussed clearly amused Draco, and Hermione found herself hoping that she wasn't their topic.

Her heart jumped up when Draco stopped talking and glanced her way. He gave her a discreet smile before turning back to his conversation. Hermione cursed herself for not smiling back in time and quickly looked away to where Ron and Harry were discussing their plans for their day.

"I think we should stay in and do homework," Ron was saying seriously. At the looks Hermione and Harry threw him, he laughed. "No, I'm kidding, can you imagine if I was really like that?"

"Oh, good, I thought it was a sign of the apocalypse for a moment there," Hermione teased, nibbling at her toast.

"No, that day comes when I pass all of my subjects with flying colours," Ron informed her. "I fancy a bit of a relax day."

"Ron, all you ever do is relax," Harry pointed out with raised eyebrows.

"Not true," Ron argued. "Tomorrow, I'm in the common room knuckling down to some revision and homework."

"Bet you've changed your mind by tonight," Harry sighed.

Ron retorted something back and so the cycle continued, with Hermione smiling contentedly at her friends.

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione was ambling (a sure sign she was in a good mood, she usually strode everywhere) alone down the steps to the grounds. Harry and Ron had pestered her to 'lend' them her potions homework so that they could get a head start on it, promising her that they'd join her later.

"Granger!" a voice hollered.

Hermione smiled privately before arranging her features into a scowl and turning around.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"Ghost problems," he answered shortly.

He glanced quickly at the two beside him, Parkinson and Zabini and Hermione understood. Had to keep up appearances in front of friends, after all.

"Can't solve them all by yourself, you need me to help you?" she asked in what she hoped was a scathing tone. While she hadn't exactly forgotten how much Draco used to (still sometimes did) annoy her, she found it odd speaking to him with anything other than familiarity.

"Can you think of any other reason I'd be talking to you?" he drawled, making his cronies laugh. However, there was something in his eyes that sparkled with genuine amusement at what he was saying, as if having an inside joke was a new phenomenon.

"Hey Pansy, maybe _Granger _is Draco's new girlfriend!" Zabini snickered, nudging Parkinson who, far from being annoyed, seemed to like it. Then his words registered and her face darkened.

"Shut up Blaise," Draco muttered, throwing a glare backwards. He noticed Hermione trying very hard not to smile and frowned. "And what, pray tell, are you smirking about?"

"Nothing," Hermione said with a shrug and a stifled laugh. "I just can't imagine you with a girlfriend."

"I believe you're being insulted," Zabini told Draco lightly, although there was a dark undertone to his voice. "Should we retaliate?"

Hermione didn't like the way Zabini was glaring at her, his dark eyes promising pain. Apparently, neither did Draco as he quickly shook his head.

"No, that's fine, I can handle her. _After _she helps me," he added, hinting.

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to walk away, assuming that Draco would just follow her. When his footsteps matched hers, she slowed down slightly.

"You could've let me be the one to walk away," he muttered irritably. "Save at least _some _face in front of my friends."

"That really wasn't going to happen," Hermione informed him happily. "So, where are we going?"

"Just walk," Draco told her.

"You're not going to kill me for showing you up, are you?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"If only I could," Draco teased. "Then I'd have three angry ghosts."

"Technically, you'd only have two," Hermione corrected as they took a small path she'd never been down before. "Zella is still a no-show in my dreams. It's relaxing, but I'm worried."

"You worry too much. It isn't healthy. One of these days your brain will explode," Draco warned, kicking aside a stone.

"My health concerns you?"

"I don't want to be left alone with Trayton," Draco told her, receiving a laugh and light swat on the shoulder from Hermione, who then, realizing what she had done, froze slightly.

"Did you just _hit _me?" Draco asked, amused.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"I can't believe you hit me again," Draco said, unable to keep the grin from spreading on his face. "I should talk to Dumbledore about this, it's getting to be a serious problem."

He glanced sideways, his eyes assuring her that it was okay to joke.

"I'm pretty sure Dumbledore will take my side," Hermione said slowly.

"And why's that?"

"Because you deserve it."

"No one deserves to be punched the way you punched me," Draco argued.

"Come on, it was barely a tap!"

"I meant the first time."

"Oh. Well, no, you definitely deserved that."

"Fine, I'm not going to tell you where we're going," Draco retaliated smugly. He knew that not knowing things drove Hermione insane.

"That's not fair!" Hermione protested.

"You don't deserve to know."

Hermione was contemplating hitting him again, she really was. But as they walked in silence through the crisp December air and serene yet sinister trees, she was glad of his presence. She'd have a hell of a time explaining to Harry and Ron where she'd been, of course, but at the moment she didn't care. The trees that lined their current path gave off a timeless quality and Hermione thought with a pang that Trayton and Zella had probably walked through here once upon a time.

"Are we near the lake?" Hermione asked a few minutes later when the trees began to thin and her world got a little lighter.

"Yes," Draco answered, taking the lead as the path became narrower. "Watch your step."

"I'm - ouch!" Hermione broke off as a sharp branch scraped through cloak to her arm.

"What did I _just _say?" Draco sighed, looking back to check she was okay before continuing.

"You told me to watch my step, not for knife-like trees!" Hermione accused.

"I meant it in the general sense. Can you be careful or do I have to carry you?"

Hermione considered this for a moment before firmly deciding that being carried by Draco Malfoy wasn't the wisest choice. No matter how appealing it may have sounded for a second.

"Thank you, Mr. Sarcasm, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

Her mild irritation faded when the path expanded and the trees dispersed to make way for a small grassy patch of land just before the shimmering lake.

"Wow," she breathed, taking a few faltering steps forward. "How did you find this?"

"I found the path one time and followed it," Draco answered with a casual shrug. "Although I only found it because I was trying to escape from Pansy."

"She really likes you, doesn't she?" Hermione promised herself that the new tone in her voice was down to amusement and not jealousy.

"I'm sort of trying to set her up with Blaise," Draco admitted sheepishly.

"Speaking of, you have a girlfriend?"

"No," Draco answered quickly. "It's just Blaise being a prat. Sit down?" He gestured to the grass which was sparkling under the weight of the morning frost.

Hermione sat, worrying only briefly that her cloak would get damp when the frost melted. She had never been to this side of the lake before and it made her think about all the other things she didn't know about Hogwarts and its grounds. A few months ago she never would've imagined that something as terrible as Zella's death could have occurred within the castle walls. Secretly, Hermione was grateful. She hated that Zella had died the way she had, at the hands of the man she loved, but it had brought Hermione closer to someone she thought she could only hate.

"I like it here," she decided after a moment. "It's serene. Peaceful."

"Despite the various murders and betrayals that have happened here over the years, Hogwarts is actually quite a beautiful place," Draco agreed. "And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll push you in the lake and let the Giant Squid decide your fate."

"Two angry ghosts, remember?"

"I doubt Squid would let you die," Draco told her, leaning back casually and watching the overcast sky above them. "He's too noble for that. Although his wife, Giant Lady Squid, won't be too happy that you've caught his attention so you'll just have to resurface."

"And spend time with you?" Hermione pretended to shudder. "I think I'll take my chances with Giant Jealous Lady Squid."

"But then you'll have to shorten her name, because calling her Giant Jealous Lady Squid is clearly ridiculous. No, you're staying on dry land."

Hermione looked at him, a smile on her face.

"How will you make sure that I don't tell everyone about your deep feelings for Hogwarts?"

"I'll have to use my powers of persuasion."

Hermione's smile grew slightly as she laughed, but quickly broke eye contact and looked down at the grass. She entangled her fingers in the blades and softly wrapped them around and around until they broke. The ice on them melted, turning her fingers damp. She frowned slightly and placed her hands back in her lap.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Draco asked out of nowhere.

Hermione glanced up at him and shrugged.

"Not sure. I might be going home to see my wonderful relatives who can't wait to ask me about wonderful Spence, the wonderful boarding school filled with wonderful people." At Draco's look, she smiled. "My parents weren't sure what to tell everyone about my absence, so I think they went a little overboard."

"Just a little," Draco agreed. "Why didn't they tell them the truth?"

Hermione was quiet for a long time and Draco feared he'd said the wrong thing.

"I don't think they'd understand," Hermione said at last, choosing her words carefully. "My mother and father were brilliant about it, so supportive and proud. I wanted to tell the rest of my family but…I don't know, I was too scared to, I suppose. I was going to tell them in the summer holidays a couple of years back but then Harry mentioned that Lily - that's his mother - had lost contact with her sister because she came out as a witch." Hermione sighed and started twisted the grass again. "I didn't want to lose my family over something that I didn't have to tell them. So I took the coward's way out and just kept quiet." She looked back up at Draco, who was watching the lake silently. She smiled sadly. "And I've made things awkward."

"No," Draco assured her. "I'm just thinking." His eyes still fixed on the lake, he continued. "I don't know what my family would've done if I hadn't been a wizard. The Malfoys have prided themselves on their blood status and their magical abilities for centuries and if I did anything to alter either of those things…" he trailed off, suddenly becoming angry. "But it shouldn't be up to them how I live my life or who I choose to spend my time with."

"Would you have noticed me earlier if I'd been Pureblood?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I've always noticed you, Hermione," Draco replied softly. "Not always liked you, but always noticed you."

He looked at her, and this time she didn't look away. Instead, she gave him a soft smile, which he returned. There was no need for speech; they understood each other.

* * *

A whole day had passed in conversation and laughter, revelations and admissions before Hermione remembered that she should be getting back to the castle. Only…she didn't want to. Staying here forever getting to know Draco better seemed like a good idea. She found out things she never would've expected (when he was five, he was so scared of the monsters under his bed that his mother had to cast a 'monster repellent' spell in his room before he could sleep) and learnt things that hadn't surprised her, such as Lucius Malfoy's deeds.

"I've scared you," Draco had said worriedly after telling her one particularly horrible story.

"No," Hermione had answered, although her eyes were slightly wider than usual. "I just can't understand how you're a member of the same family as him."

"Kind of wish I wasn't sometimes," he had admitted, bringing his knees up to his chin in a way that had made him look a lot younger. "It's not just all the Death Eater stuff. It's having to live up to every expectation just because I'm a Malfoy."

"It has some benefits though," Hermione had argued. "Snape would rather jump off a cliff than shout at you."

"But I have to prove myself to the rest of the teachers. They all know what role my father played back when You-Know-Who was at large."

"We all have to prove ourselves," Hermione had explained gently. "As soon as I realized that Muggleborns are considered bottom of the blood statuses, I worked even harder to show everyone that I deserve to be here just as much as they do."

"It used to infuriate me that you were better than me in classes," Draco had grinned.

"Is that why you didn't like me?"

"No, I didn't like you because you were friends with Harry Potter. Also, your hair's annoying me at the moment."

And then he had reached over and flicked a few stands of her hair behind her ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No hesitation, no awkwardness. Then he had leant back and nodded approvingly.

"There," he had said. "And don't even say anything about my hair in return, because you've already tried that and it didn't work."

Which brought them back to the present.

"We should get going," Hermione said, moving to get up.

Draco's hand shot out to gently rest on her arm and she stopped to look at him.

"We're not doing anything wrong," he told her with a frown. "If anyone saw us, they'd just think that we're sitting here like friends do."

"But we're not-" Hermione burst out before stopping herself. "I mean, we shouldn't be together. Be seen together," she corrected herself.

"Why not?" Draco challenged. "Because of what people might think? I don't care."

"I don't want to end up like Zella and Trayton," Hermione whispered. "And I don't mean the way Zella died. I mean that once everyone found out, something went really wrong and Trayton betrayed her. I like just being around you…why do we have to complicate that?"

"Because I want more than to just be around you!"

His shout echoed across their clearing and Hermione shrank back slightly from shock. Recovering, she stood up swiftly and wordlessly turned to leave.

"What are you so afraid of?" Draco called after her angrily.

When she didn't slow down or reply, he kicked the ground.

"Bloody women," he spat before running after Hermione.

He caught up to her in seconds and stood in front of her, blocking the narrow pathway.

"I know that you want more, too," he told her quietly, his eyes almost boring into hers. They were standing closer than ever before, with her hair sweeping his cloak. When she looked up, her eyes were blazing.

"So what if I do? It won't happen. Do you really think they'll let us be together?"

"They can try and stop us," Draco told her confidently.

"They can try and they can succeed," Hermione finished for him, unwilling to admit how fast her heart was beating at their proximity. "It's literally us against everyone else."

"So long as it's us, does it really matter?"

She glared up at him, his face shaded by the trees around them and the weak afternoon sun struggling to shine through the branches. He was attractive, there was no denying that, and she liked him, there was no denying that either. But she was a logical person and there was also no denying that, as a couple, they just didn't make sense. When she voiced her thoughts, Draco scowled.

"Then we'll _make it_ make sense!" he promised. "I want to be with you."

He was surprised at the conviction in his voice. A few days ago he was confused about what he wanted, but now it was all too clear. He just had to make Hermione see that. "Tell me you don't want me."

Hermione continued glaring at him for a moment before looking down.

"Just get out of my way, I want to go back," she muttered.

Draco only crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'm not moving until I get an answer."

"I'm not going to give you an answer, so move!"

"It's a simple answer!" Draco argued back. "You do or you don't."

"You already know the answer," Hermione frowned, giving in already. "Please just move."

"Say it out loud and I'll move."

"I do. Now move."

Draco stepped aside smugly. His tactics may be childish but they worked. Hermione brushed past him and began to walk briskly away.

"Want me to walk with you?" Draco shouted after her.

"No," she called back.

* * *

That night, Hermione sat in the common room, annoyed and confused. Harry and Ron had given up asking her what was wrong hours ago and were quietly doing some homework. When the portrait hole opened and Neville stepped through it, no one paid him much attention. Hermione glanced up, noted that he was walking slightly oddly, and looked back down again, brooding. She didn't look up until Neville was standing next to her chair.

"Hello," Neville greeted with a nervous smile. "I've got a message for you. From Draco Malfoy."

Hermione noticed Harry and Ron look up, murder in their eyes. With a roll of her own eyes, Hermione stood up and led Neville away from the fire and into a quiet corner.

"I don't care what he has to say, I'm mad at him," she clarified.

"He'll be mad if I don't tell you," Neville informed her. "I won't repeat the things he threatened to do to me if you didn't get the message."

_Another fine reason for us to be together, _Hermione thought sarcastically. _He threatens my friends._

"Go on then," she said wearily. "Let's hear it."

Fully expecting to hear either a grovelling apology or an arrogant excuse for an explanation, Hermione was surprised at what came out of Neville's mouth.

"He wants you to meet him tonight at midnight outside the portrait of the sneezing wolf on the fifth floor."

Hermione sighed. "Look, Neville, I appreciate you telling me, but-"

"He says it's important. About Trayton and Zella?" Neville frowned, not knowing the relevance of these names.

That could just be an excuse, of course, but what if it wasn't? She could be missing out on helping Zella. The guilt would gnaw at her all evening if she didn't go, she knew that. So it was with a sigh and another roll of her eyes that she found herself agreeing to meet Draco.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello all, hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**It was my birthday last week, so if you feel inclined to send me a review as a gift, go with that feeling! Y'know, I'm pretty sure I said that last year as well on my previous fic…ah well, I love reviews! (:**

**Speaking of, thanks for all your reviews. They, and you, rock.**

**Well, it's late, I have Psychology first thing tomorrow and I really need to be alert for that, so I'll love you and leave you.**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**


	17. Return To You

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione didn't tell her friends where she was going that night. She should've, she knew that, but she just couldn't bring herself to see their apprehensive looks and dark glances at the mention of Draco. So instead, as the night grew blacker outside and Harry and Ron went up to bed, Hermione found herself smiling and promising she'd go up to bed once she'd finished the latest chapter of her book. Thank Merlin she'd thought of a plausible excuse on the spot; Harry and Ron had merely nodded and bade her goodnight.

At half past eleven, when the few stragglers left began to wearily drag themselves up to bed, Hermione's nerves set in. What was she doing? She couldn't seriously be considering sneaking out after bedtime to meet a boy. It just wasn't like her. If she was caught, she'd get into trouble and if she admitted the truth, she'd be gossiped about.

"_Model student Hermione Granger sneaking out to meet Draco Malfoy on a corridor at night, just the two of them?"_

And, okay, while no one would say exactly that, there would still be whispers and glances thrown her way. No. No, she'd stay put.

She stood up and headed towards the stairs before stopping and sighing.

What if it was actually something important that couldn't wait until morning? What if Draco had suddenly found a way to free Zella that could only be done tonight? And, alright, that sounded incredibly unlikely but what if?

Hermione turned around and sat back down. She began to fidget, picking at the edges of her fingernails and glancing at the clock every so often. Tearing her hands apart from each other, she began to absently drum her fingers onto the spine of her book in some long-forgotten tune.

When the clock signalled twenty to twelve, Hermione could take it no longer. She knew that if she didn't force herself to leave the common room then she wouldn't leave at all. Standing up, she took one step in front of the other until she'd reached the portrait hole.

_So far, so good._

Nervously opening it and stepping through into the cold and dark corridor, she steeled herself. What was the quickest way down to the fifth floor? She quickly navigated the way in her mind, suddenly wishing she'd brought Harry's invisibility cloak. But that would lead to awkward questions and lies, the two things Hermione hated.

Treading down the corridor as silently as she could, she decided it was best to light the tip of her wand in case she tripped over or into something…which was a valid concern considering her lack of visibility.

Putting out of her mind the thought that she could be caught at any moment, Hermione whispered '_lumos_' and the corridor flared to life. The figures in the portraits that lined the walls grumbled in their sleep, some even waking up to glare at the wanderer. Too preoccupied to apologise, Hermione swiftly made her way to the staircase which would lead her to her destination.

Travelling down two flights of stairs, holding aloft an illuminated wand and desperately trying not to trip was, Hermione decided, exhausting. Not to mention time consuming. Treading down the hallway to where she vaguely remembered the portrait of the sneezing wolf to be, she imagined that she must be at least a little bit late. Draco would be mad and they would argue. Unless there really was something wrong, in which case he'd glare at her for awhile before getting over it.

Something creaked in the place the light didn't reach, and Hermione's heart leapt. She quickly withdrew the light with a rushed word and stood perfectly still.

"Don't worry yourself," Draco's voice came through the darkness. "It's just me."

"You could've, I don't know, _announced _yourself or something," Hermione hissed, holding the re-lit wand high again.

"How did I know you weren't a teacher?" Draco pointed out. "I can get into just as much trouble as you can by being here, don't forget."

"So then why are we here?" Hermione asked in low tones, walking over to where Draco stood.

"Because there's something I need you to see," Draco answered.

"A crude painting of a wolf with the flu?" Hermione asked sceptically. "No, but thanks anyway."

"Are you always this difficult?" Draco muttered as he studied the painting.

"You bring out the best in me."

"Funny."

"I like to think so."

Rather than watch what Draco was doing, Hermione's eyes darted nervously from one end of the corridor to the other. She was used to these types of nerves, but she was usually in the company of Harry and Ron when she experienced them and they were usually doing something life-threatening. Why, then, did she feel so anxious now it was just her and Draco?

"Got it," Draco murmured, more to himself than to Hermione. "Will you shine your wand upwards, please?"

Hermione obliged and light shone on the full moon in the portrait. The wolf below it sniffled uncomfortably and shook out his fur before sneezing again.

Before she could ask what he was doing, Draco pulled out his own wand and muttered a quick word that she didn't understand, tapping the moon lightly with the tip. The moon glowed brightly enough to fill the whole corridor for a moment, and both teenagers squinted away. When the hall went back to bleak, Hermione looked at the painting again. The wolf had whimpered and scurried off behind a tree but Hermione was drawn to the moon that appeared to be inflating rather rapidly.

"Draco, what-"

Draco cut her off with a shushing noise, something which Hermione would've had something to say about had she not been distracted, again, by the moon. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, the moon was rising outwards…leaving the confines of the portrait and settling halfway through the frame where it solidified and turned emerald.

Hermione stared at it. It defied logic. Well, Hogwarts and her current lifestyle defied logic, but this was something else. Something new. She glanced at Draco to see how he was dealing with the moon with a desire to escape, but he merely nodded once and reached out towards it. Hermione quickly caught his hand, surprised when she found it was ice cold.

"What are you doing?" she asked him with a frown, dropping his hand when the chill became too much. "And why are you so cold?"

"I know what I'm doing," Draco answered, looking at her with eyes that seemed to be hiding something. "And because the corridors are cold." When Hermione began to talk, he interrupted with a sigh, his expression becoming much more human. "I need you to trust me if this is going to work."

Hermione only nodded and gestured for him to go forward with whatever it was that he was doing. He was right, after all, she should trust him. He had never physically hurt her, although he was stronger than her and had many opportunities. Which was why she swallowed her questions and watched as Draco reached out to the moon and twisted it sharply halfway round before pressing it back into the painting.

"Why is the moon moving?" Hermione whispered, unable to contain herself. As Draco had pointed out previously, she was a logical person and this was just not making sense.

"It's an illusion," Draco answered back. "Well, not an illusion so much as a spell. The Sons of Slytherin had a talented artist paint the portrait, bewitch it and then 'donate' it to Hogwarts."

"So they could mess with the lunar cycle?"

No sooner had she spoken did the portrait begin to tremble. A dark spot amidst the trees in the painting began to grow steadily larger until the wolf vanished into its blackness. The spot outgrew the painting and, just like the moon before it, seemed to leap out of the frame. Only this time, the spot, which, Hermione realized with intrigue was actually a door, fell all the way down to the floor. A plate was encrusted into the dark wood, holding a faded pattern of snakes. That figured.

"A door," Hermione whispered, her suspicions confirmed. "To the Sons' meeting place?"

"It started out like that," Draco answered with a nod. "But Trayton used it to meet with Zella in private."

"Oh." Hermione considered this before her eyes widened. "_Oh_."

Draco shot her an amused look. "Try not to look too shocked, that type of thing has been going on with teenagers for quite some time."

"Shut up," Hermione muttered, her cheeks colouring crimson. "I assume you didn't bring me here to look at a magic door?"

"Indeed I didn't."

He slid a finger down the plate softly, stopping when he got to the engraving of the snakes. As though they were nothing more than dust, he moved each snake into a new position, twisting their bodies around to produce the form of one large serpent in the middle of the plate.

"Got to love the snake dedication," Hermione muttered.

"Slytherins may be a lot of things, but at least we're loyal."

"No you're not."

"Well, loyal to snakes."

Draco moved the last small snake to complete the large serpent, and the door began to open.

"How did you know how to do that?" Hermione asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"Trayton told me," Draco answered evasively.

"Why?"

"He wanted us to go inside."

"Because…?"

"I don't know!"

Hermione jumped slightly at his snap. She briefly considered turning around and going back to the Gryffindor tower. It was better than staying with the frankly volatile Draco. Was he still angry with her about the day's events? He seemed to be switching moods more rapidly than usual. She stared at him suspiciously.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" she demanded. "You seem like a totally different person."

"I just want this whole ordeal to be over with," he muttered, taking a step into the black void behind the door. "Don't worry, there's actually a room there," he added at Hermione's look. "It's concealed. I'll go first."

Before she could object, Draco had stepped inside. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. She didn't want to follow him inside after his outburst at her but then again what if someone had heard him and was coming to investigate? Besides, if she didn't investigate the room tonight then she'd only have to come back another night and start the process all over again. No, it was best to go.

Figuring the abyss would work like the wall at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Hermione took a deep breath and stepped into it, closing the door shut behind her. Before she had time to even blink, she was in the room.

It was much like any dorm in the castle only on a smaller scale with only one set of things. One dresser, one table, one door that she assumed led to one bathroom…one bed in the far corner of the room underneath the gentle slope of the stone ceiling. A fireplace contained roaring flames adjacent to the door, and Hermione instinctively moved towards it for warmth. Draco, meanwhile, made sure that the door was closed properly.

"Either this fire has been burning for the past two hundred years or you were expecting me," Hermione murmured, passing the fire and putting her wand down on the table, glancing in the mirror that hung above it as she did. "And everything here looks like it's been cleaned recently. No dust anywhere."

"I knew you'd come if I asked you."

Hermione scoffed and turned around with her arms crossed. Draco stood in front of the door calmly.

"Slightly expectant, don't you think? I'm only here because I thought I'd get an apology for the ridiculous way you acted before."

"Don't be so hard on him. He likes you so very much."

Hermione frowned, in confusion at his words and the new quality to his voice.

"Who does?"

"Draco, of course."

Hermione's heart sank, her stomach lurched and suddenly all warmth left the room. She stared at Draco. Or whoever was pretending to be Draco; she doubted he'd all of a sudden adopted a habit of speaking about himself in the third person. And she had a pretty good idea about who was behind the mask, so to speak.

"How?" she managed, taking a step back so that she banged into the table.

She should've just walked away the moment she realized there was something different. She should've, but she hadn't. All for fear of getting in trouble with the teachers. Well, now she was in an altogether new kind of trouble. "When?"

"You're not going to ask 'who'?" Draco - Trayton - asked silkily.

"I don't need to," Hermione answered shakily. "Who else would know enough to fool me?"

Trayton shrugged Draco's shoulders (a sentence Hermione never thought she'd hear) and smiled, only it lacked all of Draco's warmth and chilled her.

"It was easy, really," Trayton mused. "The Sons were quite fascinated with death. It bordered on unhealthy, even for Slytherins. They would continually pester the ghosts around the castle, asking how they died, how it felt to be a ghost, all sorts of things. Of course, the ghosts just thought it was morbid curiosity, but the truth was so much darker…" he frowned and Hermione knew that he was leaving something out. It was irritating enough when Draco did that, regardless of the person wearing his skin.

"And what do you want with me?"

"I've not finished my story yet," Trayton frowned. He caught sight of Hermione reaching for her wand and laughed. "Whatever you're thinking, it won't work. It'll only hurt Draco physically and won't effect me at all. Best just to stand back and listen, little girl."

Hermione bristled at being called 'little girl' but decided to stay quiet in the presence of someone she couldn't defeat without causing Draco pain.

"In conclusion, I just found some old documents of the Sons' and took it from there. Of course, I had to practice first. And then there was the problem of getting the message to you without anyone knowing you were here."

"Neville?" Hermione breathed, horrified that she had been that close to Trayton's masquerade without even realizing it.

"Right in one," Trayton affirmed cheerfully. "Quite a simple boy but his intentions are good. Concerned over his grandmother, a past that almost rivals my own in tragedy and-"

"How do you know?" Hermione interrupted sharply. This was getting worse by the minute.

"Well, it turns out that when I inhabit someone, I become them," Trayton said with a wide smile. "I know their pasts, their thoughts, their," he glanced Hermione up and down, "desires. Which is how I know that Draco is really quite taken with you. I also know that he's got quite the internal conflict raging over you."

"He's probably worried about following in your footsteps," Hermione retorted. It seemed wrong to be listening to Draco's thoughts and inner feelings, yet she wanted to understand him better.

"He's worried about the school targeting you if you have a relationship that goes public," Trayton corrected, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not too worried about himself. Arrogant boy. You know he thinks of you often? Yes, he finds himself thinking of excuses to talk to you or ask how your day was." Trayton paused and smirked. That, at least, was a familiar expression on Draco's face. "My, I don't think I'll voice _those _particular thoughts."

Hermione flushed. Now Trayton was mocking her and humiliating Draco.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "And if you don't give me a straight answer then I swear I'll just go ahead and knock Draco out."

"Well, it seems that when I was glancing through the old tomes on ghostly possession by the Sons, there was the release spell for the pretty little necklace you have on."

Hermione's hand flew instinctively to her neck. "Zella can be free?"

Trayton smiled and began to walk forward, reminding Hermione of a predator. He stopped just in front of her. She stared into Draco's eyes only to see a stranger looking back.

"In a manner of speaking," Trayton replied coldly. "It would seem that Zella needs a vessel in order to be released. And, since you're wearing her necklace…"

Oh no.

Her eyes widening, Hermione tried to get away from Trayton. She didn't think where she was going to go; the door was locked. She just knew she had to run. Trayton knew what she was going to do, rolled his eyes and shot his hand out, grabbing her arm.

"Ouch," Hermione hissed as she was jerked back in front of Trayton. "I didn't deserve that."

"A lot of people don't deserve things. Why should you get a chance at life while Zella's trapped?" Trayton snarled, practically spitting he was so mad. "All you do is tiptoe around your feelings as though you have all the time in the world! Life is for the ones who want to live, not those who daren't take chances!"

"You killed her!" Hermione snapped back, forgetting her fear for a moment. "She's trapped because of you!"

"And I intend to rectify that," Trayton told her, his eyes narrowing. "I would give my life for Zella. As it happens, I just have to give someone else's."

"You don't have your own wand," Hermione pointed out, wincing as Trayton's grip grew tighter.

"There are more powerful things in this world than magic alone," Trayton informed her. With his spare hand, he touched Hermione's necklace. "Goodbye, Miss. Granger. I appreciate your sacrifice." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "_Ego solvo vos!_"

Hermione felt the breath being forced from her body and she bent over double from the pain. She tried to scream but she felt like she was caught in a whirlwind and all oxygen was being snatched away. Trayton released his grip and she fell to the ground, the necklace burning her flesh until she thought she her whole neck was on fire. The unbearable heat spread until the world dimmed to black.

* * *

She was hurt.

Betrayed.

Confused.

Emotions that existed after death.

No physical pain, of course.

But emotional pain tenfold.

Reliving her memories every night.

Torture.

Was this hell?

It had to be.

But she had been wrong.

Because now she felt her lungs shifting for the first time in two centuries. Darkness surrounded her and she realized she had her eyes closed. She felt a cold stone floor beneath her. Could smell burning logs. Something familiar. Her knees hurt. Why was she on the floor? Had she fallen? She couldn't fall. Couldn't walk. Didn't have a body. But she did. How? Why? She felt her eyes burning and was shocked to discover that tears were sliding down her face.

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright," a soft voice came.

Familiar.

Unknown.

She recognized the words but not the voice which spoke them. She opened her eyes, accepting the unknown hand that offered to help her up. Her legs shook and she struggled to stand.

"I…I," she began, scared and confused as she looked around the room she had known so well once. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

She turned to the platinum haired young man who had helped her up, tears blurring her vision.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," was all the stranger replied and instantly she knew who he was.

"Trayton?" she whispered.

"Zella," Trayton answered, murmuring her name like a prayer and closing the space between them with a kiss.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Dun dun daaaaaah!**

**I intended to have this chapter a lot longer, but there's so much I wanted to fit in and so I'll leave it for next chapter. Shakespeare dialogue is from 'Romeo and Juliet', Latin translated for me by my friend Rob. Both great guys :P**

**Thank you so much for your reviews and birthday wishes (:**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**


	18. Masquerade

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Zella allowed herself to become lost in the moment. The one Trayton was masquerading as (or was it the other way around?) wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She inhaled his scent, surprised to find that her body reacted positively to it. Or whoever's body she was currently in. It couldn't be her body. Her body was probably six feet under in some graveyard and had been for the last two hundred or so years. Time didn't have meaning anymore. The only thing that mattered to her right now was being kissed in a way that made her body tingle happily.

Until, that was, she remembered exactly who was kissing her. She pushed Trayton away angrily, taking a few steps back to distance herself from him. She was quickly remembering how to move in a body and only wobbled slightly.

"Zella?" Trayton, or whoever it was, frowned. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"What's wrong?" she hissed. "What's _right_?"

"I…I don't understand," Trayton said, his eyes betraying hurt and confusion. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Even if the heart of the body Zella was in didn't twinge at his expression, she still would've felt a stab of guilt, something which she quickly brushed aside. She didn't know what she felt. She should hate Trayton, had been telling herself this ever since she found out it was he who had killed her. But she loved him. He was, is and always had been the centre of her entire existence. That type of devotion didn't just go away overnight.

"Just…explain to me exactly what's going on," Zella said, her voice softer as she considered 'Trayton' in the soft, flickering firelight.

"I needed to be with you again," Trayton said sadly, stepping forward towards her. "I missed you so much I thought I would die again. I thought that wandering for eternity without you was hell, but I was wrong. Knowing where you were and not being able to reach you…that was hell. So I worked and I worked and I found some of the Sons of Slytherin's old books and I-"

"You went back to the Sons?" Zella interrupted with a scowl.

"I brought us back," Trayton corrected earnestly.

"But who did you bring us back into?" she demanded. "Did these people know what they were letting themselves in for? Who are we?"

"We're the same as we've always been," Trayton told her, smiling. "And I can see that more than ever now you're angry with me. You always had a fiery streak." When Zella remained stoic, he sighed. "You're still a version of yourself, only a few generations later. The two of you were already linked by your necklace and her dreams. It isn't that far of a stretch to-"

"Hermione?" Zella's - Hermione's - whoever's - eyes widened. "Trayton, tell me you didn't. Or at least tell me she agreed to it."

"It was the only way I could talk to you again," Trayton answered, his eyes shining with childish bewilderment again. "It wasn't like I just plucked two people from obscurity. Draco and Hermione have a connection, like we did."

"Draco…" Zella pondered this name. Did Hermione ever tell her the name of the boy she liked (no matter how much she tried to deny it)? She'd said he was a Malfoy…hence the connection. She closed her eyes and groaned softly. "And I suppose you didn't ask his permission either?"

"No," Trayton answered, unashamed. "I didn't see why I had to. Draco and Hermione are us, only a couple of centuries later."

"Will they be alright after?"

"After what?"

"After we leave."

Pain shot through Trayton's face but he quickly rearranged his features.

"Yes, they'll be fine. They're not wandering around on another plane or anything like they, they're technically still here." Zella frowned, confused, so he carried on. "Think for a moment. Do you recall memories that aren't yours? Feelings, hopes, that sort of thing?"

"Just as long as they're safe," Zella answered without checking. She didn't want to invade Hermione's personal thoughts. "I don't want you to do anymore damage than you already have."

Yes, she was purposefully hurting him, but so what? She loved him desperately, even after all this time and his part in her death. But that didn't mean she couldn't hate him as well. Even when she wanted nothing more than to comfort him when his eyes became downcast, just like they were just now.

"How did you do it?" she asked after a moment. "You went to the Sons, and then what?"

"I brought us back," Trayton repeated. "That's all you need to know."

"You brought us back with dark magic," Zella murmured. "You must have, if you got it from the Sons' archives. Trayton, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I couldn't bear to spend one more day without you."

Tears began to pool in her eyes again. Why was he saying all of this? It was tearing her apart.

"I know it was you," was all she said. Inside, her heart was breaking but she couldn't let that show until she got answers. "You killed me."

"I didn't want to," he told her after an age of painful silence, tears springing suddenly to his grey eyes. "I thought it was for the best."

"How could you possibly think that?" Zella whispered, her own eyes overflowing with tears. "Did you not want me anymore?"

"No!" Trayton promised. "I will always want you. I went through everything to get you back here with me."

"Then…why? I thought we were happy. We had everything we wanted."

"You were my everything," Trayton said sadly. "You still are. But I realized that we could never completely be happy together while we were still at Hogwarts. All your friends had turned against you, Fin-"

"Don't bring Fin into this," Zella asked quietly. "I'd lost all of my friends, but so what? I had you."

"You needed more than I could offer you." Trayton his turned away, ashamed. "I went to the Sons. The highest members, actually."

Zella felt her eyes widen. The Sons of Slytherin tended to be a group of male teenage idiots, good for a laugh and a prank but not for anything else. But the highest members of the Sons…that's where the real power lay. Those were the ones the teachers didn't know about, the ones who dabbled in the blackest of magic. The ones you didn't interfere with.

"You didn't," she breathed in horror.

"I had to," Trayton shrugged. "I would've duelled them all if it meant we could be together. As it turned out, they were only too willing to help." He laughed bitterly. "At least, that's what I thought. They told me that they'd been working on a spell to entrap a life essence in an object which could be transferred back into the essence's body at any point. Even if the body was dead. They gave me a dagger and all I had to do was wait…"

Zella closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. She was shocked when she felt curls bounce around her shoulders and lifted a hand to her hair, pulling it to inspect it more closely. Her original body's hair was naturally straight and feeling curls was a new experience.

"I thought it was the perfect idea. If everyone thought you were dead and if I mysteriously disappeared soon after, we'd be free."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Trayton answered honestly. "I thought you might not agree."

"Then why go ahead with it?" Zella blazed. "Why didn't you use your head for once?"

"Because I was too busy listening to my heart!" Trayton snapped back, losing his temper.

"If you hadn't been doing that then we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"

They glared at each other for a moment before Trayton smirked.

"I'd forgotten how much fun it is arguing with you," he said.

"You're infuriating," she told him, turning away so he couldn't see her slight smile.

Their relationship had been gentle and loving, but could turn heated and passionate in less than a moment if they disagreed on something. Zella had to admit, it _was _fun fighting with Trayton sometimes. The making up part was even better…but no, she couldn't think about that right now.

"One of the many things you love about me."

Behind his teasing tone, Zella could hear worry as he used 'love' in the present tense. She frowned. As if she would ever stop loving him.

"Just carry on with the story," she told him, avoiding his eyes.

"They promised me it would be okay," he said in a small voice, his bravado vanishing. "But it wasn't. You were dead and I couldn't get to your body afterwards. I tried so hard but they wouldn't let me see you and soon you were sent back to your parents."

"I wish you would've told me," Zella whispered, reaching up and stroking her necklace softly. "I wish you hadn't had to go through that."

"I wish I wasn't stupid enough to believe the Sons actually wanted to help us," Trayton muttered. "I confronted them afterwards, after you were sent home." He looked down, clenching his eyes shut to prevent tears. "They just laughed at me."

Her heart breaking, Zella crossed the room and embraced him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. After a moment, he hugged her back fiercely until Zella broke away.

"You're a fool," she told him.

"I know," he said, hanging his head.

Zella smiled sadly and laced her fingers through his. Even though they were in different bodies, their hands still fit each others' perfectly. Trayton looked up, surprised and cautiously hopeful.

"But I knew that when I fell in love with you," she continued, looking into his eyes earnestly. "I forgive you."

"How can you?" Trayton asked, torment staining his voice. "I've made such a mess. You're dead because of me."

"But you did it out of love," Zella told him softly. "You genuinely thought you were doing the right thing."

"I was selfish," Trayton corrected. "I should've been the one to die."

"No," Zella shook her head. "You were tricked, it wasn't your fault."

"I don't want to be forgiven," Trayton whispered. "I don't deserve it."

"Forgiveness isn't given because someone deserves it," Zella told him, reaching up and caressing the side of his face. Draco's skin was as soft as she remembered Trayton's to be. "What happened is in the past, what's the point in dwelling on it?"

"It shouldn't have happened."

"But it did. We can't go back to living-"

"We could."

Trayton's excited interruption surprised Zella. He had gone from desolate to hopeful in three seconds flat. She frowned and waited for him to continue.

"Draco and Hermione are wasting their lives," he explained, his eyes alight as he considered his plan. "I've been listening to Draco's thoughts for over an hour, and they're really rather repetitive. He likes Hermione but what if she doesn't like him back? What if his father doesn't approve? What if being together will be dangerous? The boy is full of 'what ifs' and it doesn't seem like he'll be taking a proper chance anytime soon. Tell me what Hermione's thinking."

Too intrigued to worry about how ethical invading someone's mind was, Zella concentrated for a moment.

"Well, the good news is that she likes him back," she joked weakly. "But she's so full of doubts."

"They're wasting the chances life is giving them," Trayton told Zella, playing with her hair. "If we had another chance-"

"We don't," Zella cut across. "We can't. This is their time."

"And it's a much more understanding time," Trayton told her. "The rivalry between the Houses runs deep, but it's nowhere near what it was when we were alive. If a Gryffindor and a Slytherin fell in love now, people would be shocked, maybe even angry, but they'd get over it."

The more Trayton spoke, the more difficult Zella found it to argue. She knew it was wrong, of course she did. She like Hermione and wanted her to be happy, but…the chance to live again with the man she loved and not have to constantly look over her shoulder? It was so tempting.

"It wouldn't be us," she said once she found her voice.

"Not physically," Trayton agreed. "But everything that counts would be us."

"It's murder."

"It's a sacrifice," Trayton corrected hastily. "One which we'll be thankful for every day. We're here for a reason and maybe that reason is to get another chance at life." His expression softened. "We'll finish Hogwarts like we were supposed to and then go to Paris for a year and stay in a house-"

"Overlooking the river Seine," Zella finished off, her eyes sparkling with tears as she remembered. "And if there isn't a house free then you'll build me one."

Trayton nodded, thrilled that she'd remembered.

"We'll get married in Notre Dame," he continued with a smile. "And honeymoon in Italy."

"And after that we'll go back to England and get a home in the countryside." She laughed, and as she did tears ran down her face. "Although we could never agree in which countryside."

"You wanted somewhere in the South and I wanted somewhere in the North." Trayton brushed away her tears lightly with his thumb. "We'll compromise and to the West instead."

"I want to go to the East," Zella pouted through her smile. When Trayton mock-rolled his eyes at her, she laughed. "As long as we can have a garden, I don't care."

"Agreed. It'll have to be far enough out in the countryside for the children to have an excuse not to visit once they're grown up."

"I'm sure our _daughters_ will always want to visit," Zella teased.

"I've told you before, we'll keep having children until we have a son," Trayton warned light-heartedly. "We'll need someone to carry on the family name when we die at the ripe old age of one hundred and three."

Zella smiled up at him as fresh tears formed and trickled silently down her cheeks. The realization that it wasn't her tears and they weren't her cheeks brought her back to reality.

"You know we can't," she whispered after a moment.

She expected Trayton to argue, but he only nodded.

"I know. I just wish we had more time."

Zella tilted her head upwards and leant towards him, kissing him softly on the lips. He kissed her back gently.

"I love you," Trayton told her as they broke apart.

"I love you too," Zella answered, caressing his face as he leant in for their final kiss. "Forever."

* * *

Hermione didn't know what was happening.

She felt trapped in a dream of sorts.

She was warm, she knew that.

She didn't feel any emotions really.

Was apathy an emotion?

Maybe she _did _feel emotions.

Her awareness flared suddenly and she saw a flash of a room.

Was it her room?

No.

No, she remembered that it wasn't her room.

It was someone's room though.

Someone she should remember.

One by one, her senses began to return to her. It was sudden and a jolt to her system, but it was happening. She heard a fire crackling somewhere. Smelt something familiar. Felt arms wrapped around her waist. Saw…nothing. Why couldn't she see anything? As logic returned to her, she realized that it was because her eyes were shut. And why were her eyes shut?

Well, that was because she was kissing Draco Malfoy.

Alarmed, she stepped backwards hastily, her cheeks flaming. Draco surveyed her with amusement.

"Problem?" he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Hermione considered his question for a moment. Then she decided that she thought too much.

"No," she answered, taking a step forward and kissing him again.

* * *

**A/N:**

**What's the betting Hermione will regret being so forward next chapter? It's not that clear what's happened yet with Zella and Trayton, but it'll be explained next chapter. Don't worry if you're staring at the screen with a look of utter confusion.**

**Hope you all enjoyed, it was an incredibly depressing afternoon writing this, I'll tell you that XD**

**Thanks for all your reviews, they're greatly appreciated when I'm getting stressed out with coursework and the upcoming exams. It's been said many times amongst my friends, but it's times like these I just wish I went to Hogwarts :P**

**Have a great week!**

**- Momo**


	19. Entwined

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Ruling with her heart was going pretty well, Hermione decided a few moments later. After all, it was like she had said, there _was _no problem here. She was kissing the man (_boy? No, that sounded too young, but he wasn't eighteen yet. Young man? Maybe, but…wait, what an odd thing to be thinking right now_) whose company she enjoyed, who made her laugh, who, let's face it, was not unblessed in the looks/physique department and who had been on her mind a lot recently. It felt good to want and be wanted in return and as Draco's hands found the small of her back and gently pushed her closer in to him, she found she had no objections. Her own hands, acting by themselves, made their way up until they were fastened around the back of his neck.

Something made a dull thud and her own neck suddenly seemed cold. Frowning, she untangled her hands from Draco's neck and took a step back.

"What's wrong?" Draco all but demanded, looking slightly flushed.

"The necklace," Hermione murmured, her eyes raking the floor until she found where the emerald and crimson pendant lay. "It just…fell off."

"That's good, right?"

"I don't know."

Hermione felt her neck rather forlornly, already missing the necklace that she had once considered a burden. She bent down to pick it up, realizing as she did so just what had happened these last few…hours? Minutes? Seconds? She wasn't sure how long she'd been gone. As she tried to remember, she scooped up the necklace and fastened it back around her neck before standing up straight again.

"You know that's just asking for trouble, don't you?" Draco asked shrewdly.

"Shut up," she murmured, unable to meet his eye.

If Harry and Ron knew what she'd just been doing, and more importantly _who_ she'd just been doing it with, they'd never speak to her again. On the other hand, it wasn't really any of their business. On the other other hand…oh, she'd run out of hands.

"You're regretting it already, aren't you?"

Draco's harsh and slightly hurt voice cut through the silence and made Hermione wince slightly.

"No," she lied, unconvincingly.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Hermione forced her eyes up to his, surprised at the emotion they held. Anger and frustration, mainly, but there was also something softer.

"I don't regret it," Hermione told him. "I…enjoyed it, actually."

"So did I." The softness in his eyes magnified as he looked at her.

"Well, good. That's, uh, that's good." She looked away again. "But I think we need to talk later."

"Me too," Draco agreed. Suddenly a frown creased his brow. "Did Zella take your wand?"

"I don't think so," Hermione answered, checking her pocket and pulling out her wand. "Ah, here we go."

Nothing more than a flash of robes and platinum hair, Draco shot forward and snatched the wand right from her hand.

"Draco, what the hell?" she scowled. "Give me my wand back!"

"No," he answered simply. "This way you won't be able to hex me when I tell you that we won't talk _later_, we'll talk _now_."

Hermione folded her arms, annoyed.

"There's a door over there."

"Good luck getting through when I'm blocking it."

Proving his point, he moved over to the door and stood stoically in front of it.

"I've punched you once, I'm not averse to doing it again," Hermione warned, narrowing her eyes. "And at this moment I'm definitely in a more violent mood."

"Then punch me."

Hermione blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Punch me."

"Is this a trick?"

"You're obviously angry with me. I don't know why and I don't think you'll tell me, so you might as well work it off somehow."

Hermione faltered. She'd been bluffing and he'd called on it. Damn.

"I'm not going to punch you," she sighed, before hesitating. It looked like there was only one way out of this room. "But we can talk now if that's what you want."

"If I sit over there," he gestured to the bed in the corner of the room, "do you promise not to make a break for it?"

Hermione had to laugh. "You have my wand, of course I'm not."

Wordlessly, Draco threw her wand back to her. It clattered to the floor nosily as she failed to catch it. She bent to pick it up and, upon straightening, smiled softly at him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, moving to perch on the bed. "Are you?"

His response was to sit next to her. They kept a careful distance, Hermione leaning slightly against the pillows and Draco sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Not to be gross or anything, but I don't think these sheets have been washed for like two hundred years," Draco commented, lightening the mood.

Hermione laughed, relaxing a little.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"What was your favourite subject before coming to Hogwarts?"

Surprised, Hermione frowned.

"How is this supposed to help our relationship?" When Draco smiled, her frown deepened. "What?"

"You just said 'our relationship'," he told her. "And you didn't say it in a mocking way."

"Why would I say it in a mocking way?" Hermione asked, the corners of her mouth turning up. When Draco didn't reply, she shrugged. "Maths was my favourite." Unsure if wizards had muggle lessons, she began to elaborate. "That's with numbers and-"

"I know what maths is, Hermione, I'm not stupid," Draco smirked. "I was tutored at home for quite awhile by some of the greatest minds in the wizarding world."

"Pity all that money went to waste, tutoring obviously hasn't had an effect," Hermione teased.

"You're hilarious."

"I know."

"So, why maths?" Draco asked and, before waiting for an answer, continued. "I hated it. Completely pointless after learning how to count."

"Because it makes sense," was all Hermione could reply. "There's one answer for everything. Not like English."

"You got taught English at school?" Draco asked, amazed. "You didn't just pick it up naturally?"

Hermione frowned for a moment, confused, before starting to laugh.

"No, not the actual language. English as in reading books and writing about them," she explained before erupting into giggles again. "What you said was just stupid."

"Then why's it called English?" Draco sulked, the way boys do when they're wrong about something and don't want to admit it.

"I…" Hermione paused. "I don't know. We also did a little bit of French."

"Is that where you read French books and write about them?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"No, that _was_ learning the language," Hermione told him. "I enjoyed it, but I've forgotten everything now."

"I wanted to learn another language, but my father told me that I became important enough, everyone would just learn my language instead," Draco shrugged.

"What a charmingly English point of view," Hermione murmured.

"He has a point," Draco shrugged. "But who knows, I may try and pick up a language."

"You should, you'll enjoy it."

Their conversation fizzled out into awkward silence.

"What happened tonight?" Hermione asked finally, her voice quiet. "With Trayton and Zella?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted, turning his head to look in the still-burning fire. "But maybe that's for the best. They deserve their privacy."

"Do they?" Hermione asked with a slight frown. "They've been such a big part of our lives for the past few weeks and I kind of wanted to know how it ended."

"It's over then?"

Hermione shrugged. "The necklace came undone, didn't it? So Zella's not in there anymore. I think that maybe she and Trayton…" she trailed off.

"She and Trayton…?" Draco prompted.

"I don't know," Hermione murmured. I suppose they went wherever spirits go after they've been stuck on earth or in a necklace for over two hundred years."

"The bathroom?"

Hermione laughed, the serious mood lifting. Her eyes met Draco's and she held them there for a moment, her laughter dying. Then she looked away and cleared her throat.

"It's only awkward if you make it awkward," Draco told her softly. "Just forget everything you used to know about me and talk to the person you've gotten to know over the last few weeks. Can you do that?"

Hermione nodded and smiled. As they continued to talk about everything from pets to tastes in music, she found it astonishingly easy to lose herself in the moment. She didn't know what had happened to Zella and at that moment it didn't matter. She and Draco had until morning. Then they would have to go back to the real world, a world where they couldn't talk intimately on a bed beside a crackling fire, where they couldn't share a conversation without having to add insults to fulfil expectations, where a shared, lingering glance would seem unnatural.

When Draco shifted up the bed to sit on the pillows next to her, Hermione settled her head on his should almost without thinking.

"I don't want to leave here," she murmured, staring ahead of her. "It's too safe."

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Draco promised. "And you don't have to tell anyone about me."

Hermione smiled faintly. That would be the easy way out. The coward's way out. But she wasn't a coward and she'd learnt that the easiest way out of something was rarely the right way.

"I'm not ashamed of you," she told him. "Not the you I've gotten to know anyway. The old you was kind of a prick."

Draco scoffed lightly.

"It's true," Hermione protested weakly. "Anyway, I know that if you can show Harry and Ron who you've become then they'll accept you."

"It amazes me that the rest of the school can hate you and you only care about those two," Draco commented.

"And Ginny," Hermione added with a smile. "Although that's more because she'd kill me for going out with someone she didn't approve of."

"She has high standards?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"I don't suppose they've all suffered memory loss and I can start from scratch?" Draco sighed.

"Nope," Hermione said cheerfully. "But that's part of the fun!"

"And I don't suppose you'll _let me _cast a memory spell on them?"

"Not a chance."

Hermione, comfortably warm and suddenly realizing how tired she was, murmured these words sleepily and found her eyes drifting shut.

"I can walk you back to the Gryffindor tower if you want," Draco offered uncomfortably.

"I want to stay here, with you," Hermione answered, her eyelids too heavy to open.

"I hoped you'd say that." Although she couldn't see him, she could hear the smile in his voice.

Falling asleep was nowhere near as difficult as Hermione thought it would've been. She was warm, comfortable, and being this close to Draco (on a bed, no less) felt impossibly familiar. Never mind that tomorrow they'd have to face up to everything that had happened tonight…that was tomorrow's problem.

* * *

Hermione awoke a few hours later, confused and disorientated. Light was streaming in from somewhere right onto her face, preventing her from opening her eyes lest she suffer the wrath of the rare English sun. It was winter sun as well, the worst kind if there were no clouds around. It usually came straight after a frosty night, which meant that the grounds would be _fun_ to walk on today.

Today. What time was it? Where was she? Someone was on the bed with her, someone who smelled pleasantly familiar and someone who was a little too close for comfort, despite being asleep.

Hermione's eyes flew open, widening in shock as she remembered where she was…and who she was with.

"Crap," she muttered softly, trying to get off the bed without waking the sleeping Draco.

It proved to be easier than expected, despite his head resting mere inches above where her own had just been. She slid off the bed deftly, silently thanking Merlin when it didn't creak. She exhaled as quietly as she could, only to wince when it seemed to reverberate off the walls. She really should cast some sort of silencing spell, only of course that required something other than silence. How ironic. How annoyingly, ridiculously ironic.

Wondering how gently she could open the door, Hermione paused to look back at Draco. He looked adorable when he was sleeping. She wished she had a camera. Maybe when Harry and Ron saw the image, they'd realise that there was nothing wrong with Hermione liking him.

Shaking her head, she turned back and softly tread across the floor to the exit. She vaguely remembered how to get into the room, but nothing had been said about how to get out.

Swiftly taking out her wand and cursing whatever higher being had come up with this situation, she raised her wand to tap on the door when Draco cleared his throat behind her.

"Leaving before I've woken up? Why, I feel so used."

"Now isn't the time for a one night stand joke," Hermione muttered, before turning around and smiling brightly. "Morning."

"Don't give me that, I heard what you just said," he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. "And if you're so desperate to leave, why don't you try the doorknob?"

"Because-"

Hermione cut herself off as she heard voices on the other side of the door. Passing voices, carefree voices. But voices nonetheless. Her stomach dropped considerably as she realized what this meant. She couldn't leave now, not with so many people on the corridor outside. They'd want to know what she was doing inside a secret room they'd never seen before, why she had spent the night there and who she had spent the night there with. There would be no reasoning with them, no insisting that nothing happened. The word would spread like wildfire. Harry and Ron would hate her, Gryffindor would disown her for sleeping with the enemy and she'd have to leave school and live out the rest of her days in the muggle world. Oh God.

"Hermione, why are you hyperventilating?" Draco asked, not even a hint of concern touching his tone.

"I'm not," she answered, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "I'm just breathing a lot. You're in a bad mood."

"It's morning," Draco said in way of explanation. "Why haven't you gone yet?"

Hermione rose her eyebrows at him.

"What I meant was that you were all set for leaving about twenty seconds ago," he explained, almost carelessly. "What changed?"

"There are people outside," she answered, throwing a nervous glance at the door.

"And people are…bad?"

"When it's half of Hogwarts and we're together in a secret room and have obviously been here overnight, yes, they're bad."

"I hardly think it's _half of Hogwarts_," Draco said with a roll of his eyes as he sat upright. "And so what? We just stay here until they've gone."

Hermione threw another worried look at the door before nodding.

"Come on, come back to bed," Draco said with a smirk.

"Just for that comment, I'm going to stand right here," Hermione replied, folding her arms crossly.

"Hermione, it was a joke," Draco told her resignedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"If you sit next to me and tell me what's wrong, I promise I'll stop with the suggestive comments," Draco offered, smiling in an impossibly innocent way.

Hermione considered this for a moment. It was a good offer. With a slight smile she joined him on the bed, squinting as the light struck her again. She perched on the edge, lifting her legs off the floor and resting them beside her.

"So, you were saying?" Draco asked.

He was unsure of boundaries after the previous night, that much was evident. He wanted to get closer but hung back just in case. Part of Hermione wished he wouldn't. The other half didn't even know if she should still be here.

"I don't know if I want to get close to someone," she started, very carefully, "only to push them away later."

"Your friends?"

"Don't ask me to choose. You won't like the outcome."

"I would never," Draco promised, and the conviction in his voice told Hermione he was telling her the truth.

She turned around with a small yet grateful smile and all of a sudden a thought struck her. It was a little late to be worrying about growing nearer to Draco. Maybe it was the way the sunlight shone on his features, maybe it was the way he covered his hand with hers reassuringly, but in that moment she had never felt closer to anyone.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello everyone, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Despite it taking over two weeks to write, I'm still not happy with it.**

**Really sorry about not replying to your reviews, hope that things were cleared up in this chapter. If not just drop me a review or PM (:**

**My head's all over the place…when I'm not doing revision, I'm doing coursework or filming my Film Studies project, and trying to fit writing in is difficult right now, which is sad because writing is a big part of my life.**

**The main part of this fic, the Zella/Trayton plot, is over, and I don't want to write about eighteen chapters about Draco's quest for acceptance. I was thinking about doing a couple more chapters here and then posting an epilogue or a oneshot about Draco's attempts to get Harry and Ron to like him. For those that read 'Sanctuary' you'll know that I wrote about the entire relationship of the two main characters, from hate to marriage to a baby, and I don't want to do that here because I can't do it justice with my exams coming up. What do you guys think?**

**Anyway, I'll stop my cyber-rant now and leave. Hope that you enjoyed the chapter, thank you for all of your reviews!**

**I don't actually know what day it is right now, but have a great rest of week!**

**- Momo**


	20. Gossip And Guesses

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"How long do you think we should wait?" Hermione asked two hours later, leafing through the musty clothes that hung in the dresser from decades ago. "And would you think it completely immoral of me to come back and take some of these dresses?"

"Until lunch and yes," Draco answered, sitting on the thick wooden chair that accompanied the table and watching her in amusement.

"Why?" Hermione asked, turning and pouting slightly. "I'm sure Zella wouldn't mind."

"You'd be wearing the clothes of your murdered ancestor, that doesn't strike you as a little ghoulish?"

"It's not like I'd be wearing the clothes she died in," Hermione began to protest before sighing. "You're right, it's morbid. But she has really nice dresses."

"Where would you wear them though, seriously?" he paused and frowned. "And yes, I'm aware that I sounded very feminine just then."

Hermione smiled. "I don't know, but every girl needs at least one nice dress."

"You have a nice dress, you have the one you wore at the Yule Ball," Draco reminded her.

Hermione turned to him, her expression confused. It took Draco a moment to realize what he'd said.

"You remember the dress I was wearing?" she asked.

"No," Draco said hastily. When Hermione raised her eyebrows he shrugged. "But I remember that you didn't look half-bad in it. And that was back then. So now that I like you," he paused thoughtfully before continuing with a smile, "a _little _bit more, I think you looked beautiful in it."

Hermione looked away, a blush creeping onto her cheek and a small smile lighting up her face. She knew there was nothing to reply that wouldn't make her sound arrogant or irritatingly modest, so she remained quiet.

"Although having Krum as your accessory endangered your chances of being prettiest girl there," Draco continued in a voice that was a little too carefree.

"Jealous?" Hermione smirked.

"Of the best, richest and youngest professional Quidditch player of all time?" He paused. "No."

Hermione laughed. "There's nothing to be jealous about. Viktor and I don't really talk anymore."

"I could be as successful as him anyway," Draco muttered, ignoring Hermione. "If someone gave me the chances he'd had, I'd be a global superstar."

"Of course you would."

"Don't patronize me."

"Don't fish for compliments."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again knowing when he was beaten. He hoped he'd get to win at least some of the word battles he knew he would share with Hermione in the weeks to come.

"Do you even want to be a professional Quidditch player?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Why not? It's a high-paying profession, I'm passionate about it, Merlin knows I'm good at it and with my father's connections-"

"Are you sure you want to use your father's connections?" Hermione asked quietly, searching his face.

"Not if I can help it," Draco admitted. "But Quidditch is…I mean, I'm not serious about pursuing it or anything. If I get the chance I'll take it but otherwise I'm alright."

"You plan on living off your good looks and wit?" Hermione asked, only half-sarcastically.

Tired of standing, she moved over to the bed. Lying on her front and facing Draco, she settled herself down and ignored her stomach pining for food.

"You forgot intelligence," Draco added.

"Seriously though, what do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

Draco muttered something, not meeting her eyes. When she asked him to repeat himself, he glared at her.

"You heard me."

"I didn't," Hermione protested.

"I said…being an Auror…sounds like maybe something I would want to do," he repeated in a low voice as though admitting it was something to be ashamed about. With a jolt, Hermione realized that he probably thought it was.

"Harry and Ron would like to go into that as well," Hermione mused. "It interests me, I must say."

Draco stared at her. "That's it? You're not going to laugh?"

"Why would I laugh?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"Because a member of the Malfoy family wanting to be an Auror is like Dumbledore begging to be You-Know-Who's best friend."

"Well, yeah, I suppose it's a little bit odd, but-"

"Odd? Hermione, my father would kill me if he found out," Draco interrupted. There was an awkward silence, broken only when he asked. "So go on, what do you want to do when you leave?"

"I'd definitely like to take a look down the Auror route," Hermione answered thoughtfully. "Or maybe go travelling for awhile. Who knows? I want to see how the thing with You-Know-Who plays out."

"I like how you downplayed something which could lead to all our deaths," Draco chuckled mirthlessly.

"I'm an optimist."

Draco stared at her incredulously. "No you're not!"

"I can be!" Hermione replied indignantly.

The argument that followed had them both at opposite ends of the room, sulking and refusing to make eye contact for twenty minutes.

_He's like a child, _Hermione thought, staring stubbornly at the fireplace. _Worse than Ron._

Draco meanwhile was thinking a little more practically. _How are we supposed to work if we argue over the littlest things? It could just be because we've been in the same room as each other for too long, both hungry, both needing to change clothes._

"I'm sorry," he called over to her insincerely after another minute of mulling things over.

"You don't sound like you're sorry," she sniped back.

"Accept it, because it's the only apology you're getting from me," Draco shot back. "This is stupid anyway, we just need to get out of here."

"Then what?"

"Well, then we get something to eat and-"

"No, I mean…with us." She sighed heavily. "I don't want to be sneaking off to this room every so often just so we can be together. We're either all in or all out."

* * *

With Hermione's words still ringing in his mind two hours later, Draco barely touched his lunch. The students chattered around him, making too much noise for his liking after being stuck in a quiet room for the last few hours. Maybe 'stuck' wasn't the right word; it implied he hadn't enjoyed being there. And he had, for the most part. The goodbye kiss he and Hermione shared in particular had been a highlight. He had initiated it, of course, telling her afterwards that now she couldn't cite possession as an excuse for kissing him. She just laughed and opened the door, walking away without a word. They hadn't come to a conclusion over what to do, but Draco knew without asking that Hermione wanted him to fight for her. Wasn't that what all girls wanted? He guessed that the reason she and Weasley hadn't worked out was because he was too much of a coward to say anything to her. _Too late now_, he thought smugly to himself.

"Where were you this morning?" Blaise asked Draco from his place across the table.

"Out," Draco answered shortly. Now, he knew, wasn't the time to come clean. Hermione would be furious with him and, for reasons unknown, he didn't want to upset her. Usually it was funny to see her annoyed, but he wouldn't hurt her that badly anymore.

"Out where? I don't remember you coming back last night," Pansy pouted, joining in the interrogation.

"You waited up for me?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"I was doing homework and I noticed you weren't back by the time I went to bed," Pansy snapped back. "Don't think so highly of yourself."

"She didn't get to bed until late," Blaise told him dryly. "Hence the mood."

Pansy shot him a dark look. "You know what, Blaise? If you've got such a problem with me then maybe you shouldn't-"

"Maybe I shouldn't what?" Blaise interrupted dangerously, glaring at her.

"Forget it," Pansy muttered, scooping up her bag and leaving the hall in a huff.

Blaise watched her go angrily. He turned to Draco once she'd left and scowled.

"She's such a bitch in the morning," he complained. When Draco stared at him, his frown deepened. "What?"

"You seem a little…" he searched for the right word. "Tense."

"Do I?" Blaise asked, not even noticing that his fist was clenching. "I don't know why."

_I do, _Draco answered silently but remained silent rather than risk Blaise's wrath. He needed him on his side so that when everyone found out about Draco and Hermione, they'd have a least one supporter. Well, maybe _supporter_ was too strong a word…time would tell.

"Maybe you're just tired. Anyway," Draco said, quickly moving onto another topic. "Did we…uh, have any potions homework?"

Dear sweet Merlin, he was beginning to sound like Hermione. Blaise shot him a funny look.

"What do you care? Snape won't do anything about it if you haven't."

"Just wondering," Draco shrugged, silently cursing himself. "What are your plans for today?"

"I should get packing, Christmas holidays are coming up and you know how long it takes me to find half my stuff."

"That's because its strewn all over the castle," Draco answered, only half-joking. It really was quite remarkable how one boy's possessions could end up in so many different places.

"This is true," Blaise acknowledged with a nod. "Although I might need to pack a few extra weapons for my first meeting with…" he trailed off, biting his lip and furrowing his brow as he tried to remember.

"Rupert?" Draco suggested, raising his eyebrows.

"That's the one," Blaise nodded. "I lose track, to be honest. Mother's boyfriends don't last long anyway. What are you doing?"

"Undoubtedly attending dinner at every single pureblood's house in England," Draco answered dispassionately. "We do it every year."

"Don't worry, Mother will be parading-"

"Rupert," Draco supplied without having to be asked.

"Rupert about society, so I'll probably see you at all those dinners and more," Blaise continued as if there had been no interruption.

"Ever thought about dating someone who wasn't in our social circles?" Draco asked, figuring it best to drop a few hints before the bombshell.

Blaise frowned. "Random question. Why, who do you like?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Draco tried determinedly not to glance over at the Gryffindor table where he knew Hermione was sitting with her friends.

"It's Moaning Myrtle, okay?" Draco settled for answering.

"We've discussed this, I'm in love with her already, she's off the list," Blaise answered. "Who is it really?" When Draco didn't answer, he leant in suspiciously, ensuring that those around them were involved in their own conversations. "Not that I listen to gossip, but there's been talk. You've been spending a lot of time with…well, I won't say her name out loud, but with someone you shouldn't be spending a lot of time with."

"Who's been talking?" Draco demanded.

"The girls in Gryffindor," Blaise answered, watching Draco carefully. "Pansy overheard them in the bathroom yesterday."

"And you were the first person she told?" Draco asked smugly.

"That…that doesn't matter. The point is if you're going out with someone like _her_ then-"

"What's the worst that could happen? I endure a few stares, nudges behind my back, whispers? Maybe she's worth it," Draco said defensively, although if he was defending himself or Hermione he wasn't sure.

"Try your family disowning you and You-Know-Who knowing exactly who to target when you get on his bad side," Blaise answered. "She's in enough danger as it is because of who her friends are, she doesn't need you."

"Maybe I need her."

"Draco, think realistically!" Blaise snapped while still keeping his voice down. "These aren't the times to be mingling with someone outside of your blood status, especially when you're a pureblood and she's not."

"What does blood matter?" Draco asked furiously. "It's all the same once-"

"It's been spilled?" Blaise suggested quietly.

Draco didn't answer.

"Her friends will go crazy when they find out," Blaise warned. "Actually insane."

"I think they sort of know," Draco replied glumly. "They've already warned me off her."

"At least they've got some sense in them."

"Will you tell anyone?"

Blaise looked at his friend, deliberating. "No," he said finally. "As long as you keep your mouth shut about Pansy."

"What about Pansy?" Draco asked innocently. "Last I heard, she still fancies me."

"Yeah, because that's _really_ a rumour I want to perpetuate," Blaise sighed. "She's got better taste than that, mate."

Draco smiled, slightly less uneasy now that one person knew and the universe hadn't exploded.

"So, mind telling me what you were really doing last night?" Blaise asked, quirking one eyebrow up. "Or is it something I don't want to know?"

Draco toyed with the idea of telling Blaise he and Hermione had slept together (it was technically true!) but decided not to be so cruel.

"You don't want to know," he replied instead. "But not because of the reasons you're thinking of. It's just too weird to explain."

* * *

"So you expect us to believe you got yourself trapped in a secret room whilst possessed?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Hermione answered weakly.

"And you were alone?"

"Yes."

"It just seems odd that Zella would choose to manifest herself at such a unusual time," Harry commented. "When there was no one else around and when she'd never been able to do it before."

"Yeah, odd," Hermione said with a nervous chuckle.

"And Zella's just, poof, gone?" Ron checked.

"Not so much 'poof' but, yes, she's gone."

"Even though she'd have to talk to Trayton to be able to move on?" Harry asked sceptically.

"We didn't know that for sure," Hermione reminded him hastily.

"Hermione, we know when you're lying to us," Ron told her, waving his fork - complete with dripping egg - in her direction.

"I don't do it very often, so you must know that I'm only doing it to protect you," Hermione told them.

"Aha!" Ron shouted, drawing curious looks from those around him. "So you admit you were lying!"

"Ron, keep your voice down," Hermione begged. "It's not what you think."

"I think you think it's exactly what we think," Ron challenged.

"What?" Harry and Hermione asked, identical looks of confusion.

"You spent the night with Malfoy," Ron translated.

"No!" Hermione answered, outraged. "Well, yes. But not in that way!"

Harry and Ron shot her disgusted looks.

"We were trapped in there!" Hermione told them, desperation to prove herself leading to mild hysterics. "Trayton tricked me, and I fell for it. But it turned out to be for the best because now they're gone. Stop looking at me like that!"

"You went to a secret room in the middle of the night alone because you thought Malfoy invited you there," Harry summarized angrily.

"In my defence, I didn't know it was a secret room," Hermione answered. "But apart from that, yes."

"Do you like him?" Ron asked, oddly calm.

"I…yes."

Ron nodded, maintaining his peaceful air, which surely meant that he would kill someone in the next five minutes. Harry looked betrayed.

"If it's any consolation, we're not serious."

It wasn't a lie; they weren't talking about marriage and children after all.

"Were you ever going to tell us?" Harry asked, glaring down at his plate.

"I just did," Hermione shrugged helplessly. "Draco-"

"_Draco_," Ron repeated under his breath derisively, his facade cracking.

"-wants you to be okay with this, because he knows how much your approval means to me," Hermione continued, imploring her friends with her sad eyes.

"Can he travel back in time and erase all the stuff he's done and said to us?" Harry asked. "Otherwise, there's not a chance in hell." He paused, considering his words before hastily adding, "Although if he can actually travel back in time, there's still no chance."

"He's changed, and he'll prove it to you," Hermione promised confidently.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello all, hope you enjoyed the chapter. For those confused about Trayton and Zella, there'll be a mini explanation next chapter (:**

**Thank you very much for all the reviews, you guys are awesomesauce!**

**Have a great week,**

**- Momo**


	21. Nothing Ever Dies

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"How am I supposed to prove to them that I've changed?" Draco scowled when Hermione had finished relaying her, Harry and Ron's conversation.

"I don't know, but I said that you would and I don't like being wrong so you'd better get your thinking cap on."

"Why is it all left to me?" Draco complained.

"Because," was all Hermione answered.

They were sat in the clearing by the lake that they had first visited only the previous day, although it seemed like centuries since.

"That's the worst excuse ever," Draco answered. "You're lucky you're pretty."

His breath came out as mist in front of him, reminding them both of the bitter cold. Still, it was the only place they could find guaranteed privacy.

Hermione smiled and pushed him lightly on the shoulder, quickly wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. Around them the trees shook in the wind and the lake, so close to being frozen, rippled.

"This is ridiculous," Draco muttered. "I'm cold."

"You wouldn't be if you were on Harry and Ron's good sides," Hermione commented lightly. "You'd be all cosy and warm in the castle."

Draco looked at Hermione for a very long time.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"You really want me to try, don't you?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly with a nod.

Draco just continued looking at her. She was really quite beautiful, especially in these surroundings. Her cheeks were flushed a healthy pink and her eyes, though downcast at the moment, seemed to shine. She had a power over him, stronger than anything he had felt before. Stronger than the promise of money and power, stronger than the spell the part-Veela girl temporarily cast over him during the Tri-Wizard tournament. This was real affection, and that was stronger than everything else put together.

"If I get laughed out of Slytherin, I'm blaming you," he warned her, heaving himself up off the ground and offering her his hand.

"Where are you going?" she asked, slightly bewildered.

"If I'm going to get the blessings of Boy Wonder and the Weasel-"

"Harry and Ron," Hermione interrupted sternly.

"-then I should start as soon as possible. I assume you'd like to be seen in public with me sometime in the next century?"

"Yes please," Hermione answered with a wide smile as she took Draco's hand and stood up. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word, she kissed him. "You're the best."

"I know," Draco nodded. "Come on."

* * *

_This is going to be the most humiliating, excruciatingly awful experience of my entire life. Ever._

"Potter," he called down the (mercifully slightly empty) corridor.

If he was going to 'make nice' as Hermione put it with her friends then he might as well start sooner rather than later.

Potter turned around, his expression darkening when he saw who it was.

"I'm late," he said curtly when Draco had caught up to him.

"For what?"

"For not being here."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Yes it does."

"No it-" Draco cut himself off with a sigh. He would be the better man here. He _would_. "Fine. Whatever. I'm here to prove myself."

Potter snorted. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but leave Hermione out of it."

"We're a little old to be playing games, unless it's Quidditch and if that's the case then I think we both know Hermione doesn't like Quidditch so she wouldn't be involved anyway," Draco retorted, ignoring the fact that he was rambling.

Potter scowled. "Stop talking like you know her."

"I do know her, and this is me trying to get to know you."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just shoot me?" Potter asked sarcastically.

"Yes," Draco replied without hesitation.

"At least you're honest," Potter muttered, eyeing Draco with unmistakeable dislike.

"Shocking, isn't it?"

"Yes, which makes me think you're up to something which in turn is exactly why I won't waste my time here." Potter began to turn away, only to be stopped by a small voice calling his name down the corridor.

Both boys turned to see a timid first year approach them.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, Harry," the young boy said. He shot a quick glance at Draco. "And you too, Malfoy."

Potter gave the small one a smile and a nod and, satisfied and a little star-struck, the child scampered away.

"How come you got the first name treatment?" Draco complained. "The kid wasn't even a Gryffindor."

"Because people respect me. They don't fear me." Potter paused. "They also know I'm not a complete arsehole."

It took Draco a _lot_ to go against his natural instincts and hex the egotistical prat into oblivion.

"You're funny," he finally managed. It came out bitter and sarcastic, but it was better than violence and the best he could do under the circumstances. "What do you think Dumbledore wants?"

"Don't know," Potter answered before walking away.

Draco rolled his eyes skyward before following his enemy. All this for a girl.

* * *

"Stupid kid didn't tell us the password," Malfoy groaned as he and Harry reached Dumbledore's office.

Harry didn't say anything. It had taken him all his strength not to punch Malfoy in the corridor when he had first approached him, and when he followed him to the Headmaster's office…dear, sweet Merlin, Harry thought he would have to chain himself to the wall to prevent him doing some serious damage to the Slytherin. He kept Hermione's face in his mind the entire time they walked to Dumbledore's. He trusted Hermione's judgement…it was just unfortunate that she'd gone completely insane. Harry and Ron were already plotting a way to get her to see sense again after yesterday's revelation. Harry had initially been very impressed that Ron hadn't exploded with rage. That had been until ten minutes later, when the redhead got back to the Gryffindor tower and thoroughly trashed the dormitory.

"We better not be out here long," Malfoy continued muttering.

"Or you'll do what?" Harry spat, at the end of his tether. "Thought you were one of the good guys now?"

"Good guys," Malfoy repeated almost scornfully. "As if everything boils down to good and bad."

"I don't know," Harry argued. "It can do. Hermione: good. Hermione with you: bad."

"Where's Weasley anyway?" Malfoy asked, determinedly ignoring Harry.

"Probably plotting your violent death at the hands of blast-ended skrewts."

"They have hands?"

"I don't know."

"Huh."

Harry rolled his eyes and leant against the nearby wall. It wasn't like Dumbledore to forget to give him the password and why the hell Malfoy was here he didn't know. Maybe Dumbledore didn't trust Malfoy. Smart guy.

"Draco!" came Hermione's voice happily from the other end of the corridor, "…and Harry!" she added quickly when she caught sight of him.

Harry noted the brief look of alarm that passed through her eyes although she tried to maintain her upbeat expression.

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked, casting a cautious sidelong glance at Harry despite speaking to Hermione.

"Dumbledore wanted to see me," Hermione shrugged. "He wanted to see you as well?"

"Both of us," Harry cut in before Malfoy could answer, reminding her that he was there as well.

Hermione met his eyes then quickly looked away under the force of the glare he was directing at her. Harry couldn't help it, he loved Hermione, she was like a sister to him and he trusted her with his life. But he kept getting the feeling that someone was going to leap out and yell 'got you!' and everyone would laugh and Malfoy would attack him. You know, like the good old days.

"Do you know why?" Malfoy asked her and Harry tried not to acknowledge that his voice had gotten softer since Hermione had arrived.

"Nope," Hermione answered. "Don't you have the password?"

"Don't get him started," Harry muttered.

"That's a no," Malfoy clarified. "But it won't be long."

"Okay."

And so silence descended.

For a really long time.

And then the passageway to Dumbledore's office opened and the relief in the air was almost palpable. A miscellaneous teacher left the office, nodding to the students as he left. Once he had gone, Harry started up the staircase without a word, assuming the others would follow. They did.

"Welcome," Dumbledore smiled once they entered his office. "Would you care to sit down?"

He gestured to four chairs in a row before his desk. His smile faltered slightly as his eyes passed over the group.

"Is Mr. Weasley preoccupied?" he asked.

_Why, yes Headmaster, he's currently screaming into his pillow, _Harry thought but would never voice this aloud.

"I don't know," he settled for instead.

"Well, I suppose you could pass on the message…" Dumbledore started doubtfully. "Please, sit down."

Dutifully, they sat. Harry noticed Hermione and Malfoy sneaking quick glances around the impressive room filled with gadgets.

"Good afternoon-" Dumbledore began.

"Why are we here?" Malfoy interrupted impatiently.

"Draco!" Hermione admonished, nudging him slightly.

Harry glared at her, whilst Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"I mean…shut up Malfoy!" Hermione tried again.

"Smooth," Malfoy muttered, a slight smirk on his lips. Harry fought the urge to punch him.

"The resident ghosts reported a disturbance last night," Dumbledore went on, wisely deciding to ignore the display. "I have noticed a ghost in your presence, Mr. Malfoy, and I wondered if he may have anything to do with it."

"Because he's hanging around a Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, scowling. Harry fought the urge to punch him.

"Because the ghost did not die here and was not invited," Dumbledore corrected calmly. "Sir Nicholas came to me this morning incredibly distressed and I was understandably curious. He mentioned the new ghost and many conspiracy theories which involved yourself and Miss. Granger."

Malfoy and Hermione exchanged glances.

"There are many things I am tolerant of but the threat of the wellbeing of the residents at Hogwarts - dead or alive - is not something I will accept." His eyes were stern behind his half-moon spectacles.

"They weren't the ones in danger," Malfoy muttered. Harry fought the urge to punch him.

"If you were ever in danger I would've hoped you would come to see me about it," Dumbledore replied sadly.

"We weren't in danger," Hermione said, shooting a look at Malfoy. "Dra - Malfoy's exaggerating."

"Like hell!" Malfoy answered indignantly. "Sorry," he added almost sincerely to Dumbledore, who nodded. "Look, Professor, everything's been sorted out. The ghosts are gone and they didn't do any _lasting_ damage."

"Ghosts?" Dumbledore repeated. "As in, more than one?"

"No," Hermione replied, the same time Malfoy answered "Yes."

"It's complicated," Hermione said with a weak smile.

"I have time," Dumbledore told her, returning the smile.

"_We_ don't," Malfoy muttered. Harry fought the urge to…never mind. He knew he wouldn't go through with it right now anyway.

With a slight sigh, Hermione launched into the events of the past few weeks. Or rather, an outline of the events. She doubted Dumbledore wanted to know about them sneaking into the library out of hours and she knew that Harry would explode if he found out just some of things she and Draco had done. She also had a hell of a time avoiding the issue of the secret room that none of the teacher's knew about.

"Quite a tale," Dumbledore mused once she had finished. A sudden, rather sly smile sprang onto his face. "And I assume you're not fearful that history may repeat itself."

"I don't understand-"

"Why, you and Mr. Malfoy, of course," Dumbledore clarified cheerfully.

"How did you…?" Hermione asked, her cheeks staining crimson.

"Was I not supposed to know?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. From the way you talked about him I thought it was obvious-"

"It _is _obvious," Harry muttered.

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione shot back.

"She doesn't want people knowing," Draco told Dumbledore, almost conspiratorially.

"Shut _up_, Draco!"

"I for one think it's wonderful," Dumbledore interrupted.

"What?" Harry asked, snapping his gaze onto the Headmaster. "How? What?"

"Harry's not very happy with mine and Hermione's relationship, Sir," Draco sighed mock-regretfully to Dumbledore.

"You're enjoying this!" Hermione accused.

"Of course I am," Draco replied with a grin. "It's funny."

"Why don't you approve, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, concealing a smile at Draco's comments.

Hermione couldn't believe this. Why was there a therapy session going on in Dumbledore's office and why did it revolve around her private relationship?

"It's wrong on a variety of levels," Harry answered promptly. "A variety of wrong, disturbing levels."

"Kind of like your face."

Hermione sighed deeply and brought her palm up to her forehead in exasperation while Draco and Harry stared daggers at each other.

"Grow up," she muttered through her hand.

"Why do you think it's wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Because…he's _Malfoy_ and she's _Hermione _and the two just don't…just don't go together!"

"Have you spent time with them whilst they've been a couple?"

"We're not officially a couple," Hermione argued, lifting her forehead from her palm.

"Hermione, go out with me?" Draco asked almost immediately.

Back down went the forehead.

"This is a farce," she moaned. "I can't believe you're asking me that here."

"Have you considered that maybe your prejudices are getting in the way of your friend being happy?" Dumbledore asked Harry, now completely ignoring the other two. "Our impressions of people change over the years. Experiences can define and shape who we are, and from what I gather Hermione and Draco had to go through the ordeal with no one but to each to turn to for help. In a distressing time such as that, aren't you happy that Hermione didn't have to go through it alone? You know that, should Hermione ever fall into trouble again, Draco will be there to help her. He's proven himself to her. Hermione isn't foolish, Harry, so it may be wise to trust her judgement."

"Where else would I ask you?" Draco asked Hermione, in turn ignoring Harry and Dumbledore.

"I don't know, maybe in front of _all _the Hogwarts staff?" Hermione suggested sarcastically, raising her forehead again.

"That can be arranged."

"Don't you dare!" Hermione warned. Her face softened and she smiled. "But yes, I will go out with you." When the smirk remained on his face, she frowned at him.

"Sorry, am I supposed to act surprised that you said yes?" he asked.

She responded by shoving him. "You're arrogant."

"I am," he agreed. "I'm also determined. Which is exactly how I know that when I brag to everyone that I managed to get Hermione Granger to go out with me, they'll accept it and even be jealous."

"What about Pansy?" Hermione asked. "Isn't she like the queen of your fan club?"

"I don't think she'll be a problem," Draco answered, a grin on his face again.

"Why?"

"She likes Blaise."

"Zabini?" Hermione asked. She paused and nodded. "Huh, I approve."

Draco scowled at her and she laughed.

"Relax, I'm kidding." _He's very good looking though. _"So at least we won't be the only topic of the gossip at the Slytherin table."

"Are you kidding? This - _us _- is going to rock their world. I wouldn't be surprised if Blaise and Pansy don't even get a mention."

"Why do you sound happy about that?" Hermione frowned.

"I like attention," Draco shrugged.

Meanwhile, in the other conversation in the room, Harry was sulking.

"It's not that I don't want her to be happy, I just don't want her to be happy with him," he said.

"Harry, all I ask is that you give them a chance," Dumbledore requested quietly, his bright eyes beseeching. "You don't have to like it, you just have to accept it for now."

Harry glanced over at Hermione. She was laughing and smiling a lot and scowling playfully. Harry was happy to see his friend in high spirits, but the only thing wrong with the picture was that _Draco Malfoy _was the one making her so. Then, taking Dumbledore's words to heart, he tried to look at Malfoy from a different perspective and forget the long-running enmity between them. It lasted all of three seconds and he turned back to Dumbledore with a scowl.

"It's not happening, Sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, please. If nothing else, think about what a relationship between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could bring with your blessing. There would be no more of this ridiculous prejudice the second someone finds out a potential friend or lover is in an opposing house. Even more importantly, students would go into the wizarding world with no misconceptions about people with different bloodlines from their own."

Harry sat silently for moment. His logical side told him that Draco and Hermione's relationship couldn't have _that _much of an impact, but his heart wondered what it would be like to live in a world of peace. Creatures like Voldemort wouldn't exist, the Death Eaters would remain an unconscious nightmare in some little child's mind.

"Let them be happy," Dumbledore murmured, a last-ditch attempt to make Harry see his point of view.

"I can't just flick a switch," Harry warned. He sighed heavily. "But…I can _try_ considering Malfoy was involved in something important and the world didn't end because of it."

"Hey," Malfoy complained mildly. "And you should start calling me Draco now we're friends."

"Who said we're friends?" Harry scowled. "I trust Hermione, Hermione, for some God awful, unknown reason, trusts you. Ipso facto, I won't go out of my way to mutilate you the way my instincts are telling me to."

"Isn't it nice when we all get along?" Malfoy muttered dryly.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled, ignoring Malfoy's comment. She knew that this, for the time being anyway, was the closest Harry would get to accepting Draco and she was grateful that Harry could look beyond his prejudices for the sake of a friend's happiness.

"Well, off you go, I'm sure you have homework to do," Dumbledore said, content now that his meddling had paid off.

"Wait," Draco said to Dumbledore as the others stood up. "Not that this wasn't a rewarding and fulfilling experience for everyone-" Hermione rolled her eyes at his sarcasm "-but why is Potter here?"

Dumbledore blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "I, ah, I actually thought that Harry might have something to do with the disturbance the ghosts felt."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"Because you're involved in everything else," Hermione joked. When Dumbledore didn't reply, she raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Well, fair enough, he has a point Harry."

"Oh, of _course_ Wonderboy here would have something to do with _my_ success," Draco muttered irritably.

"I believe that's _our _success, Draco, and shut up," Hermione reprimanded.

They all made to leave again before Hermione paused and looked back to Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore," she started hesitantly. "What happens to ghosts when they move on?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have no idea. But it sounds as though Trayton and Zella finally found the acceptance in death that they couldn't have in life. There may have been many things that were tying them both to our mortal plane but they must have all been resolved last night. Ghosts can choose whether to stay once given the option of moving on, but they can't actually choose to move on themselves. Whatever was keeping them here, be it love or hate or revenge, you two-" he looked at Hermione and Draco with kindly eyes "-set them free."

While Draco stood there, unsubtly rolling his eyes, Hermione smiled softly.

"I imagine the moment the conflict between them was resolved, they simply…moved on," Dumbledore suggested with a slight shrug. "But who can guess the mysteries of life after death?"

The conversation ended on that rhetorical question. Harry, Hermione and Draco shuffled in silence out of the office and down the stairs.

"So…that's it?" Harry asked after a minute. "Trayton and Zella, they're just _gone_?"

"Apparently so," Draco nodded thoughtfully. He turned to Hermione with a grin. "If I'd known that getting manipulated and possessed could've solved the problem, I wouldn't even have said anything to you, Granger."

"And if I'd known that kissing you would've made everything go away, I would've done it sooner," Hermione replied sweetly.

"I'm off," Harry announced, quickly striding down the corridor and out of sight.

"I think we scared him," Hermione murmured, watching her friend walk away sadly.

"He'll get used to it," Draco answered, unconcerned.

The corridor was starting to fill up. A few students were already sending questioning glances the couple's way. Hermione answered the looks with a smile. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

"We've just about got Harry to accept us," she mused. "But Ron? There's the challenge."

"A Slytherin is always up for a challenge," Draco smirked.

"An _honest_ challenge?"

"Well, no."

"Thought not," Hermione replied with a laugh. "Come on then, we'll work on this challenge together."

As if reading her mind, Draco took her hand and, in full view of all the students in the corridor, proceeded to walk down the corridor with her.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey guys, sorry about the epic wait.**

**Really hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's probably going to be the last. Things with exams are stressing me out, plus some other, more personal, things which mean that I'm not really having the inclination to write at the moment. I hope that changes soon because God knows I love to write.**

**Thank you so much for all of your fantastic reviews over the course of 'Echo,' they meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed the story (:**

**Everyone enjoy the next HP film when it comes out! :D**

**- Momo**


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